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1  PLAT  IN  SIX  ACTS 


BY 


EDMOND    ROSTAND 


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TRANSLATED   BY 

LOUIS    N.     PARKER 


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New  York  and  London 


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Copyright  1900 
By  Robert  Howard  Rundl 


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Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


THE  PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 
The  cast  as  presented  by  Maude 
Adams  at  the  Knickerbocker 
Theatre,   New  York,  October,  1900 

The  Duke  of  Reichstadt,  son  of  Napoleon  I.  and 

the  Archduchess  Maria  Louisa  of    Austria 

Maude  Adams 

Flambeau^  a  veteran J.  H.  Gilmour 

Prince  Metternich,  Chancellor  of  Austria 

Edwin  Arden 

Count  Prokesch Percy  Lyndall 

Baron  Friedrich  von  Gentz Eugene  Jepson 

The  Attache  of  the  French  Embassy  at  the 

Austrian  Court Oswald  York 

The  Tailor,  a  conspirator William  Lewers 

Count  Maurice  Dietrichstein Edward  Lester 

Baron  von  Obenaus R.  Peyton  Carter 

The  Emperor  Francis  of  Austria.  . .  .Jos.  Francceur 
Marshal  Marmont,  Duke  of  Ragusa.  .  .J.  H.  Benrimo 
Count  Sedlnizky,  Prefect  of  the  Austrian  Police 

William  Crosby 

The  Marquis  of  Bombelles,  betrothed  to  Maria 

Louisa Clayton  Legge 

Tiburtius  de  Loget William  Irving 

Lord  Cowley,  English  Ambassador  at  the  Austrian 

Court Rienzi  de  Cordova 

Count  Sandor Edward  Jacobs 

Doctor  Malfatti H.  D.  James 

General  Hartman .Herbert  Carr 

Captain  Foresti John  S.  Robertson 

An  Austrian  Sergeant Lloyd  Carleton 


A  Country  Doctor Frederick  Spencer 

His  Son Byron  Ongley 

Thalberg B.  B.  Belcher 

Montenegro Morton  H.  Weldon 

The  Chamberlain Charles  Martin 

An  Officer  of  the  Noble  Guard,  the  Emperor  of 

Austria's  Bodyguard Henry  P.  Davis 

The  Marquis  of  Otranto,  son  of  Fouche 

Charles  Henderson 

Don  C.  Merrifield 

....  Henry  Clarke 
Bonapartist 
conspirators 


r 


Thomas  H.  Elwood 

George  Klein 

. .  .Frank  Goodman 


Goubeaux 

Pionnet.. 

Morchain 

Guibert.  . 

borowski. 

First  Police  Officer Ralph  Yoerg 

First  Archduke,  a  child Walter  Butterworth 

Second  Archduke,  a  child John  Leeman 

Maria  Louisa,  second  wife  of  Napoleon  /.,  widow 

of  Count  Neipperg Ida  Waterman 

The  Archduchess  Sophia  of  Austria 

Sarah  Converse 

Theresa  de  Loget,  sister  of  Tiburtius  de  Loget 

Ellie  Collmer 

The  Countess  Napoleone  Camerata,  daughter  of 

Napoleon's  sister,  Elisa  Bacciocchi. .  .Sarah  Perry 

Fanny  Elssler Margaret  Gordon 

ScARAMPi,  Mistress  of  the  Robes. .  .Francis  Comstock 

MiNA,  a  maid-of-honor Edith  Scott 

An  Archduchess,  a  child Beatrice  Morrison 

Princes,  Princesses,  Archdukes,  Archduchesses,  Maids- 
of -Honor,  Officers,  Noble  Guard,  Masks  {Male  and 
Female),  Crotian  Peasants,  Hungarian  Peasants, 
Austrian  Soldiers,  Police  Officers. 

The  period  covered  by  the  play  is  from  iS^O  to  1832, 


%■•■ 


THE    DUKE   OF   REICHSTADT 

FROM    THE    PAINTING    BY    SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE 


THE  FIRST  ACT 


i-M 


L^AIGLON 


THE   FIRST   ACT 


'At  Baden,  near  Vienna,  in  i8jo. 

The  drawing-room  of  the  villa  occupied  by  Maria 
Louisa.  The  walls  are  painted  al  fresco  in  bright 
colors.  The  frieze  is  decorated  with  a  design  of 
sphinxes. 

At  the  back,  between  two  other  windows,  a  window  reach- 
ing to  the  ground  and  forming  the  entrance  from 
the  garden.  Beyond,  the  balustrade  of  the  ter- 
race leading  into  the  garden;  a  glimpse  of  lindens 
and  pine-trees.  A  magnificent  day  in  the  begin- 
ning of  September.  Empire  furniture  of  lemon- 
wood  decorated  with  bronze.  A  large  china  stove 
in  the  centre  of  the  wall  on  the  left.  In  front  of 
it  a  door.  On  the  right,  two  doors.  The  first  leads 
to  the  apartments  of  Maria  Louisa.  In  front  of 
the  window  on  the  left  at  the  back  an  Erard  piano 
of  the  period,  and  a  harp.  A  big  table  on  the  right, 
and  against  the  right  wall  a  small  table  with 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

shelves  filled  zvith  books.  On  the  left,  facing  the  audi- 
ence, a  Recamier  couch,  and  a  large  stand  for 
candlesticks.  A  great  many  flowers  in  vases. 
Framed  engravings  on  the  walls  representing  the 
members  of  the  Imperial  Family  of  Austria.  A 
portrait  of  the  Emperor  Francis. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  a  group  of  elegant  ladies  is 
discovered  at  the  further  end  of  the  room.  Two 
of  them  are  seated  at  the  piano,  zvith  their  backs 
to  the  audience,  playing  a  duet.  Another  is  at  the 
harp.  They  are  playing  at  sight,  amid  much 
laughter  and  many  interruptions.  A  lackey  ush- 
ers in  a  modestly  dressed  young  girl  who  is  ac- 
companied by  an  officer  of  the  Austrian  Cavalry. 
Seeing  that  no  one  notices  their  entrance,  these  ttuo 
remain  standing  a  moment  in  a  corner.  The 
Count  de  Bombelles  comes  in  from  the  door  on 
the  right  and  goes  toward  the  piano.  He  sees  the 
young  girl,  and  stops,  with  a  smile. 

The    Ladies, 
[Surrounding  the  piano,  laughing,  and  all  talking  at 
the  same  time.] 


s 


HE  misses  all  the  flats! — It's  scandalous! — 

I'll  take  the  bass! — Loud  pedal! — One!    Two!—* 

Harp! 

Bombelles. 
[To  Theresa.] 

What!  You! 

Theresa. 

Good-day,  my  Lord  Bombelles ! 

A  Lady. 

[At  the  piano.] 

Mi,  sol. 
Theresa. 

I  enter  on  my  readership — 

[12] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Another   Lady. 
[At  the  piano.] 

The  flats! 

Theresa. 
It's  thanks  to  you. 

BOMBELLES. 

My  dear  Theresa!     Nothing! 
You  are  my  relative,  and  you  are  French. 

Theresa. 
[Presenting  the  officer.] 
Tiburtius — 

BOMBELLES. 

Ah,  your  brother ! 

[He  gives  him  his  hand  and  pushes  forward  a 

chair  for  Theresa.] 

Take  a  seat. 

Theresa. 
I'm  very  nervous. 

BOMBELLES. 

[With  a  smile.] 

Heavens  I    What  about  ? 

Theresa. 
To  venture  near  the  persons  of  the  two 
The  Emperor  left ! 

BOMBELLES. 

Oh,  is  that  all,  my  child  ? 

Tiburtius. 
Our  people  hated  Bonaparte  of  old — 

Theresa. 
Yes — but  to  see — 

Bombelles. 
His  widow? 

[13] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Theresa. 

And  perhaps 
His  son? 

Bom  BELLES. 

Assuredly. 

Theresa. 

Why,  it  would  mean 
I'd  never  thought  or  read,  and  v^^s  not  French, 
Nor  bom  in  recent  years,  if  I  could  stand 
Unmoved  so  near  them.    Is  she  lovely? 

Bom  belles. 

Who? 
Theresa. 
Her  Majesty  of  Parma? 

BOMBELLES. 

Why— 

Theresa. 

She's  sad 
And  that  itself  is  beauty. 

Bombelles. 

But  I'm  puzzled. 
Surely  you've  seen  her? 

Theresa. 
No. 

Tiburtius. 

We've  just  come  in. 

Bombelles. 

Yes,  but — 

Tiburtius. 
We  feared  we  might  disturb  these  ladies 
Whose  laughter  sings  new  gamuts  to  the  piano. 

Theresa, 
Here  in  my  corner  I  await  her  notice. 

[14] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

BOMBELLES. 

What  ?    Why,  it's  she  who's  playing  bass  this  moment ! 

Theresa. 
The  Emp —  ? 

BOMBELLES. 

I'll  go  and  tell  her, 
[He  goes  to  the  piano  and  whispers  to  one  of  the 
ladies  who  are  playing.] 

Maria   Louisa. 
[Turniytg.] 

Ah !  this  child- 
Quite  a  pathetic  story — yes — you  told  me : 
A  brother — 

BOMBELLES. 

Father  exiled.    Son  an  exile. 

TiBURTIUS. 

The  Austrian  uniform  is  to  my  taste; 

And  then  there's  fox-hunting,  which  I  adore. 

Maria   Louisa. 
[To  Theresa.] 

So  that's  the  rascal  whose  extravagance 
Eats  up  your  little  fortune  ? 

Theresa. 

Oh! — my  brother — 

Maria   Louisa, 
The  wretch  has  ruined  you,  but  you  forgive  him ! 
Theresa  de   Loget,   I   think  you're  charming! 

[She  takes  Theresa  hy  both  hands  and  makes  her 
sit  beside  her  on  the  couch.] 
[Bom belles  and  Tiburtius  retire  to  the  hack. 
Now  you're  among  my  ladies.     I  may  boast 
I'm  not  unpleasant ;  rather  sad  at  times 
Since — 

[151 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Theresa. 
I  am  grieved  beyond  the  power  of  words. 

Maria    Louisa. 
Yes,  to  be  sure.    It  was  a  grievous  loss. 
That  lovely  soul  was  little  known ! 

Theresa. 

Oh,  surely! 

Maria   Louisa. 
[Turning  to  Bombelles.] 

I've  just  been  writing;  they're  to  keep  his  horse— 
[To  Theresa.] 
Since  the  dear  General's  death — 

Theresa. 

The— General's? 

Maria   Louisa. 
He'd  kept  that  title. 

Theresa. 
Ah,  I  understand! 

Maria   Louisa. 
I  weep. 

Theresa. 
That  title  was  his  greatest  glory. 

Maria   Louisa. 
One  cannot  know  at  first  all  one  has  lost  ; 
And  I  lost  all  when  General  Neipperg  died. 

Theresa. 
Neipperg? 

Maria   Louisa. 
I  came  to  Baden  for  distraction. 
It's  nice.    So  near  Vienna. — Ah,  my  dear, 
My  nerves  are  troublesome ;  they  say  I'm  thinner — 
And  growing  very  like  Madame  de  Berry. 
'Twas  Vitrolles  said  so.    Now  I  do  my  hair 

[I6] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Like  her.    Why  did  not  Heaven  take  me  too? 

This  villa's  small,  of  course;  but  'tisn't  bad; 

Metternich  is  our  guest  in  passing. 

[She  points  to  the  door  on  the  left.] 

There. 

He  leaves  to-night.    The  life  at  Baden's  gay. 

We  have  the  Sandors  and  the  pianist  Thalberg, 

And  Montenegro  sings  to  us  in  Spanish. 

Fontana  howls  an  air  from  Figaro. 

The  wife  of  the  Ambassador  of  England 

And  the  Archduchess  come  ;  we  go  for  drives — 

But  nothing  soothes  my  grief! — Ah,  could  the  Gen- 
eral— ! 

Of  course  you're  coming  to  the  ball  to-night  ? 

Theresa. 
Why— 

Maria    Louisa. 

At  the  Meyendorflfs'.    Strauss  will  be  there. 
She  must  be  present,  mustn't  she,  Bombelles? 

Theresa. 
May  I  solicit  of  your  Majesty 
News  of  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt? 

Maria    Louisa. 

In  good  health. 
He  coughs  a  little ;  but  the  air  of  Baden 
Is  good  for  him.    He's  quite  a  man.    He's  reached 
The  critical  hour  of  entrance  in  the  world ! 
Oh  dear !  when  I  consider  he's  already 
Lieutenant-Colonel !    Think  how  grieved  I  am 
Never  to  have  seen  him  in  his  uniform ! 

[Enter  the  Doctor  and  his  son,  bringing  a  box. 

Maria   Louisa. 
Ah !    These  must  be  for  him ! 

The   Doctor. 

Yes;    the  collections. 

[173 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Maria   Louisa. 
Please  put  them  down. 

BOMBELLES. 

What  are  they  ? 
The   Doctor. 


Butterflies. 


Butterflies  ? 


Theresa. 


Maria    Louisa. 
Yes;   when  I  was  visiting 
This  amiable  old  man,  the  local  doctor, 
I  saw  his  boy  arranging  these  collections. 
I  sighed  aloud,  Alas !  would  but  my  son, 
Whom  nothing  moves,  take  interest  in  these ! 

The   Doctor. 
So  then  I  answered.  Well,  your  Majesty, 
One  never  knows.    Why  not  ?    We  can  but  try ; 
I'll  bring  my  butterflies! 

Theresa. 

His  butterflies ! 

Maria    Louisa. 
Could  he  but  leave  his  solitary  musings 
To  occupy  his  mind  with — 

The   Doctor. 

Lepidoptera. 

Maria    Louisa. 
Leave  them  ;  come  back ;  he's  out  at  present. 
[To  Theresa.]  Yoil-  ' 

Come,  I'll  present  you  to  Scarampi.    She's 
The  Mistress  of  the  Robes. 
3-  [She  sees  Metternich,  who  enters  L.] 

Ah,  Metternich! 
Dear  Prince,  we  leave  you  the  saloon. 

[i8] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 

Indeed, 
I  had  to  come  here  to  receive  the  Envoy — 

Maria    Louisa. 
I  know — 

Metternich. 
Of  General  Belliard,  French  Ambassador; 
And  Councillor  Gentz,  and  several  Estafets. 
With  your  permission — 
[To  a  lackey.]  First,  Baron  von  Gentz. 

Maria    Louisa. 
The  room  is  yours. 

[She  goes  out  with  Theresa.     Tiburtius  and 
Bombelles  follow  her.    Gentz  enters.] 

Metternich. 

Good-morning,  Gentz.    You  know 
The  Emperor  recalls  me  to  Vienna? 
I'm  going  back  to-day. 

Gentz. 
Ah? 

Metternich. 

Yes ;  it's  tiresome — 
The  town  in  summer ! 

Gentz. 

Empty  as  my  pocket. 

Metternich. 
Oh,  come  now  !    No  offence,  you  know,  but — eh  ? 
Surely  the  Russian  Government  has — 

Gentz. 

Me! 
Metternich. 
Be  frank.    Who's  bought  you  ?    Eh  ? 

[19] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

Gen  Tz. 
[Munching  siveetmeats.] 

The  highest  bidder. 

Metternich. 
Where  does  the  money  go? 

Ge  N  T  Z  . 

[Smelling  at  a  scent-bottle  he  has  taken  out  of  his 
pocket.] 

In  riotous  living. 

Metternich. 
Good  Heavens !    And  you're  considered  my  right  hand ! 

G  e  N  T  z  . 
Let  not  your  left  know  what  your  right  receives. 

Metternich. 
Sweetmeats  and  perfumes !    Oh ! 

Ge  NTz. 

Why,  yes,  of  course. 
I've  money ;  I  love  sweets  and  perfumes.    Yes, 
I'm  a  depraved  old  baby. 

Metternich. 

Affectation ! 
Mere  pose  of  self-contempt. 
[Suddenly.]  And  Fanny? 

Ge  N  TZ . 

Elssler?    Won't  love  me.    I'm  ridiculous 
From  every  point  of  view.    She  loves  the  Duke. 
I'm  but  a  screen ;  but  I'm  content  to  suffer 
When  I  remember  how  it  serves  the  state 
If  he's  amused.    And  so  I  play  the  fool, 
And  dance  attendance  on  the  little  dancer. 
She  bade  me  bring  her  here  this  very  night. 
Just  to  surprise  the  Duke. 

[20] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich, 

You  scandalize  me. 

G  E  N  T  z  . 
His  mother's  going  out.    There's  dancing. 

[He  hands  Metternich  a  letter  which  he  has 
taken  out  of  a  pocket-book.] 

Read— 
From  Fouche's  son. 

Metternich. 
[Reading  the  letter.]     August  the  twentieth. 
Eighteen  hundred  and  thirty — 

Gentz. 
He'd  transform — 

Metternich. 

Good  Viscount  of  Otranto ! 

Gentz. 
Our  Duke  of  Reichstadt  to  Napoleon  Two. 

Metternich. 
[Handing  back  the  letter.] 
A  list  of  partisans  ? 

Gentz. 
Yes. 

Metternich. 

Make  a  note. 

Gentz. 
Do  we  refuse? 

Metternich. 

Without  destroying  hope. 
Ah,  but  my  little  Colonel  serves  me  well 
To  keep  these  Frenchmen  straight.    When  they  forget 
Their  Metternich,  and  lean  too  much  to  the  left, 
I  let  him  show  his  nose  out  of  his  box,  and — crack ! — 
When  they  come  right,  I  pop  him  in  again ! 

[21] 


L  •  A  I  G  L  O  N 

G  EN  TZ . 

When  can  one  see  the  springs  work  ? 

Metternich. 

Now. 
[Enter  the  French  Attache. 

Metternich. 

The  Envoy 
Of  General  BelHard.    Welcome,  sir. 
[Hands  him  papers.]  The  papers. 

We  accept  in  principle  King  Louis  Philip ; 
But  don't  let's  have  too  much  of  '99, 
Or  we  might  crack  a  little  egg-shell ! 

The   Attache. 

Sir, 
Are  you  alluding  to  Prince  Francis  Charles? 

Metternich. 
The  Duke  of  Reichstadt  ?    Oh,  sir,  as  for  me, 
I  don't  admit  his  father  reigned. 

TheAttache. 

[Generously.] 

I  do. 

Metternich. 
So  I'll  do  nothing  for  the  Duke.    Yet— 

The   Attache. 

Yet? 
Metternich. 
Yet,  should  you  give  too  loose  a  reign  to  freedom, 
Permit  yourself  the  slightest  propaganda, 
Let  Monsieur  Royer-Collard  come  too  often 
And  bare  his  bosom  to  your  king ;  in  short, 
If  your  new  kingdom's  too  republican, 
We  might — our  temper's  not  angelical — 
We  might  remember  Francis  is  our  grandson. 

[22] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Attache. 
Our  lilies  never  shall  turn  red. 

Metternich. 

And  while 
They  keep  their  whiteness  bees  shall  not  approach  them. 

TheAttache.  /' 

*Tis  feared  in  spite  of  you  the  Duke  may  hope. 

Metternich. 
No. 

TheAttache. 
Things  are  happening. 

Metternich. 

But  we  filter  them. 

The   Attache. 
Doesn't  he  know  that  France  has  changed  her  king? 

Metternich. 
Yes ;  but  the  detail  he  does  not  yet  know 
Is  that  his  father's  flag,  the  tricolor, 
Is  re-established.    'Twill  be  time  enough — 

The   Attache. 
He  would  be  drunk  with  hope ! 

Metternich. 

We'll  keep  him  sober. 

The   Attache. 
He's  not  so  strictly  guarded  here  at  Baden. 

Metternich. 
Oh,  here  there's  nought  to  fear.    He's  with  his  mother. 

The   Attache. 
Well,  sir? 

Metternich. 

What  spy  could  have  such  interest 

In  watching  him  ?    For  any  plot  would  trouble 

Her  lovely  calm. 

[23] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Attache. 

Is  not  that  calmness  feigned? 
She  cannot  have  a  thought  but  for  her  eaglet ! 

Maria   Louisa. 

[Entering  hurriedly. 
My  parrot! 

The  Attache. 
[Starting.] 

Eh? 

Maria   Louisa. 
[To  Metternich.] 

Margharitina's  flown! 

Metternich. 
Oh! 

Maria   Louisa. 
My  parrot,  Margharitina ! 

M  ETTERN ICH. 

[To  the  Attache.] 

There,  sir! 

The   Attache. 
[To  Maria  Louisa.] 
May  I  not  seek  it,  Highness? 

Maria   Louisa. 

[Curtly.] 

No.  [She  goes  out. 

The   Attache. 

[To  Metternich.] 

What's  wrong? 

Metternich. 
We  say,  Your  Majesty ;  you  called  her  Highness. 

The   Attache. 
But  if  we  don't  allow  the  Emperor  reigned 
She  cannot  be  addressed  as  Majesty 
Except  as  Parma's  Duchess — 

[24] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 

That's  her  title. 

The   Attach  e. 
Then  that  was  why  she  looked  such  daggers  at  me! 

Metternich. 
Question  of  protocols  and  of  precedence. 

The   Attache. 
[Preparing  to  take  his  leave.] 
May  the  French  Embassy  from  this  day  forward 
Display  the  tricolor  cockade  ? 

Metterni  ch  . 
[IVith  a  sigh.]  Of  course, 

Since  we're  agreed — 

[Seeing  the  Attache  silently  throw  away  the 
white  cockade  which  wc^  on  his  hat  and  re- 
place it  with  a  tricolor  which  he  takes  out  of  his 
pocket.] 

Come,  come !    You  lose  no  time ! 
[Noise  of  harmss-bells  mthout.] 

Metternich. 
What  is  it  now? 

Gentz. 
[Who  is  on  the  terrace.] 

The  guests  of  the  Archduke. 
The  Meyendorffs,  Lord  Cowley,  Thalberg — 

BOMBELLES. 

[Who  has  quickly  come  in  R.  at  the  sound  of  the 
bells,  followed  by  Tiburtius.] 

Meet  them ! 

The   Archduchess. 

[Appearing  on   the   threshold  surrounded   by  a 

crowd  of  lords  and  ladies  in  elegant  summer 

costumes.     (Light  dresses  and  parasols;   large 

[25] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

hats.)     Two  little  boys  and  a  little  girl  dressed  in  the 

latest  fashion.] 
*Tis  but  a  villa ;  not  a  palace. 

[The  room  is  crowded.     She  turns  to  a  young 
man.  ] 

Quick  1 
Thalberg,  my  Tarantelle ! 

[Thalberg  sits  at  the  piano  and  plays.] 
[To  Metternich.]  Where  is  her  Majesty, 

My  lovely  sister? 

A   Lady. 
We  looked  in  to  fetch  her. 

Another   Lady. 
We're  rushing  through  the  valley  on  a  coach. 
Sandor  is  driving. 

A    Man's   Voice. 

We  must  thrust  the  lava 
Back  in  its  crater ! 

The   Archduchess. 

Oh !  do  hold  your  tongues 
They  will  insist  on  talking  of  volcanoes. 

Bombelles. 
What's  this  volcano?  • 

A    L  AD Y . 
[To  another.] 


Astrachan  this  winter. 
Sandor. 


[To  Bombelles.] 
Why,  liberal  opinions. 


Bombelles. 
Ah! 
[26] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Lord   Cowley. 

Or,  rather,  France! 

Metternich. 
[To  the  Attache.] 
You  hear  him? 

A     L AD Y . 

[To  a  young  man. ] 

Montenegro,  sing  to  me 
Under  your  breath,  for  me  alone. 

Montenegro. 
[Whom  Thalberg  accompanies,  sings  very  softly.] 

Corazon — 
[He  continues,  pianissimo.] 

Another    Lady. 
[To  Gentz.] 
Ah,  Gentz! 

[She  dips  into  her  reticule.] 

Some  bon-bons,  Gentz? 
[She  gives  him  some.] 

Gentz. 

You  are  an  angel. 

Another    Lady. 
[Similar  business.] 
Perfume  from  Paris? 

[She  takes  out  a  little  bottle  of  scent  and  gives  it 
to  him.] 

Metternich. 
[Hurriedly  to  Gentz.] 

Tear  the  label  off! 
"  The  Reichstadt  scent  " ! 

Gentz. 
[Smelling  perfume.] 

It  smells  of  violets. 

[27] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
(Snatches  the  bottle  out  of  his  hand  and  scrapes 
the  label  off  with  a  pair  of  scissors  he  takes  from 
the  table.] 
If  the  Duke  came  he'd  see  that  still  at  Paris — 

A   Voice. 
[Among  the  group  at  the  back  of  the  stage.] 
The  Hydra  lifts  its  head — 

A    Lady. 

Our  husbands  talk 
Of  Hydras! 

Lord   Cowley. 
And  it  must  be  stifled. 

A     L  AD  Y. 

Yes; 
Volcanoes  first,  then  hydras. 

A    Maid   of    Honor   of    Maria    Louisa. 
[Followed  by  a  servant  bringing  a  tray  with  large 
glasses  of  iced  coffee.] 

Eis-Kaffee? 

The   Archduchess. 
[Seated;  to  a  young  lady.] 
Recite  some  verses,  Olga. 

Ge  NTZ. 

May  we  have 
Something  of  Heine's? 

Several  Voices. 
Yes! 

Olga. 

[Rising.] 

The  Grenadiers? 

[28] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
[Quickly.] 

Oh!  No! 

SCARAMPI. 

[Coming  out  of  Maria  Louisa's  apartment] 
Her  Majesty  is  on  her  way ! 

All. 
Scarampi ! 

S  a  N  DO  R. 
We'll  drive  out  to  Krainerhiitten, 
The  ladies  there  can  rest  upon  the  green. 

Metternich. 
[To  Gentz.] 
What  are  you  reading  yonder? 

Gentz. 

The  "  Debats." 

Lord   Cowley. 

The  politics? 

Gentz. 
The  Theatres. 

The   Archduchess. 

How  futile  I 
Gentz. 
Guess  what  they're  playing  at  the  Vaudeville. 

Metternich. 
Well? 

Gentz. 
"  Bonaparte." 

Metternich. 
[With  indifference.] 

Oh? 

Gentz. 

The  Nouveautes? 

[29] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
Well? 

Ge  N  TZ . 

"Bonaparte."    And  the  Varietes? 
"  Napoleon."    The  Luxembourg  announces 
"  Fourteen  years  of  his  life."    At  the  Gymnase 
They  are  reviving  the  "  Return  from  Russia." 
What  is  the  Gaiety  to  play  this  season? 
"  Napoleon's  Coachman  "  and  "  La  Malmaison.'* 
An  unknown  author's  done  "  Saint  Helena." 
The  Porte -Saint- Martin's  going  to  produce 
"  Napoleon." 

Lord   Cowley. 
It's  the  fashion. 

TiBURTIUS. 

It's  the  rage. 
Ge  N  T  z  . 
The  Ambigu  "  Murat ;  "  the  Cirque  "  The  Emperor.*' 

S  A  N  DOR. 

A  fashion. 

Bombelles. 
Yes,  a  fashion. 

G  e  N  TZ . 

Yes,  a  fashion 
Which  will  recur  from  time  to  time  in  France. 

A     L AD Y . 

[Reading  the  paper  over  Gentz's  shoulder  through 
a  long-handled  eye-glass.] 
They  want  to  bring  his  ashes  home. 

Metternich. 

The  Phoenix 
May  rise  again,  but  not  the  eagle. 

[30] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

TiBURTIUS. 

What 
An  unknown  quantity  is  France ! 

Metternich. 

Oh,  no; 
I've  gauged  it. 

A    L AD Y . 
Well,  then,  mighty  prophet,  speak! 

The   Archduchess. 
His  words  are  graven  in  bronze. 

G  E  N  TZ . 

Or,  maybe,  zinc. 

Lord   Cowley. 
Who  will  be  France's  Saviour? 

Metternich, 

Henry  the  Fifth. 
The  others — Fashion. 

Theresa. 

That's  a  useful  name 
For  calling  glory  by  at  times. 

Metternich. 

So  long 
As  all  the  shouting's  only  done  in  theatres, 
I  think  there's  no — 

Cries. 
[Without.] 

Long  live  Napoleon ! 

All. 
What?— Here,  at  Baden!— Here! 

Metternich. 

Ridiculous ! 
Pray,  have  no  fear ! 

[31] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 


Lord  Cowley. 

We  must  not  lose  our  heads 
Because  a  name  is  shouted. 

Gen  TZ . 

He  is  dead. 

TiBURTIUS. 

[On  the  terrace.] 

It's  nothing. 

Metternich. 
Yes,  but  what? 

TiBURTIUS. 

An  Austrian  soldier. 

Metternich. 
Austrian  ? 

TiBURTIUS. 

Two  of  them.    I  saw  them. 

Metternich. 

Vexing ! 

Maria  Louisa. 

[Entering  hurriedly  and  pale  zvith  fear  from  her  room.] 

Did  you  not  hear  the  shout  ?    Oh,  horrible ! 

It  brought  to  mind — One  day  the  people  surged 

About  my  coach  in  Parma  with  that  cry ! 

It's  done  to  vex  me! 

Metternich. 

What  could  it  have  meant? 

TiBURTIUS. 

Two  of  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt's  regiment 
Caught  sight  of  him  as  he  was  riding  homeward. 
You  know  the  deep  ditch  bordering  the  road  ? 
\  /His  Highness  wished  to  leap  it,  but  his  horse 
'    Shied,  swerved,  and  backed.     The  Duke  sat  firm. 
And  brought  him  to  it  again,  and — over!     Then 
The  men,  to  applaud  him,  shouted.    And  that's  all. 

[32] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
[To  a  lackey.] 
Fetch  one  of  them  at  once ! 

Maria   Louisa. 

They  seek  my  death! 
[An  Austrian  sergeant  is  brought  in.] 

Metternich. 
A  sergeant !    Now,  my  man,  speak  up.    What  meant 
That  shouting? 

The    Sergeant. 
I  don't  know. 

Metternich. 

What!     You  don't  know? 

The    Sergeant. 
No ;  nor  downstairs  the  corporal  don't  know  neither. 
He  shouted  with  me.    It  was  good  to  see 
The  Prince  so  young  and  slender  on  his  horse. 
And  then  we're  proud  of  having  for  our  Colonel 
The  son  of — 

Metternich. 
That'll  do. 

The    Sergeant. 

He  took  the  ditch 
So  cool  and  calm !    As  pretty  as  a  picture ! 
So  then  a  sort  of  lump  came  in  our  throats. 
Pride  and  affection — I  don't  know — we  shouted 
"  Long  live— ! 

Metternich. 
Enough,  enough !    It's  just  as  easy 
To  shout  "  Long  live  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt,"  idiot ! 

The   Sergeant. 
Well— 

[33] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

M  ETTERNICH. 

What? 

The    Sergeant. 

"  Long  live  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt " 
Isn't  so  easy  as  "  Long  live 


Metternich. 

Be  off. 
Don't  shout  at  all ! 

TiBURTIUS. 

[To  the  Sergeant  as  he  passes  him  to  go  out.] 

You  fool! 

Maria   Louisa. 
[To  the  ladies  who  surround  her.] 

I'm  better,  thank  you. 

Theresa. 
The  Empress ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
[To  Dietrichstein,  pointing  to  Theresa.] 

Baron  Dietrichstein,  this  is 
My  new  companion-reader. 
[To  Theresa,  presenting  Dietrichstein.] 

My  son's  tutor. 
And,  by  the  way,  I've  never  thought  of  asking- 
Do  you  read  well  ? 

TiBURTIUS. 

Oh,  very ! 

Theresa. 

I  don't  know. 

Maria   Louisa. 
Take  one  of  Franz's  books  from  yonder  table. 
Open  it  anywhere. 

[34] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

Theresa. 

\Taking  a  book  and  reading  the  title.] 

"  Andromache  " — 
[She  reads.] 

"  What  is  this  fear,  my  lord,  which  strikes  the  heart? 

Has  any  Trojan  hero  slipped  his  chains? 

Their  hate  of  Hector  is  not  yet  appeased : 

They  dread  his  son !  fit  object  of  their  dread ! 

A  hapless  child,  who  is  not  yet  aware 

His  master's  Pyrrhus  and  his  father  Hector." 

[General  embarrassment.] 
I— 

Gentz. 
Charming  voice. 

Maria    Louisa. 

Select  another  passage. 

Theresa. 
"  Alas  the  day,  when,  prompted  by  his  valor, 
To  seek  Achilles  and  to  meet  his  doom, 
He  called  his  son  and  wrapped  him  to  his  heart : 
'  Dear  wife,'  quoth  he,  and  brushed  away  a  tear, 
*  I  know  not  what  the  fates  may  have  in  store. 
I  leave  my  son  to  thee — '  " 

[General  embarrassment.] 
H'm — yes — 

Maria   Louisa. 

Let's  try 
Some  other  volume.    Take — 

Theresa. 

The  "Meditations"? 

Maria   Louisa. 
I  know  the  author !    'Twill  not  be  so  dull. 
He  dined  with  us.     [To  Scarampi.]     The  Diplomat, 
you  know. 

[35] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Theresa. 
[Reads.] 

"  Never  had  hymns  more  strenuous  and  high 
From  seraph  lips  rung  through  the  Hstening  sky : 
Courage !    Oh,  fallen  child  of  godlike  race — " 

The   Duke. 
[Who  has  entered  unnoticed.] 
Forgive  the  interruption,  Lamartine! 

Maria   Louisa. 
Well,  Franz?    A  pleasant  ride? 

The   Duke. 

Delightful,  mother. 
But,  Mademoiselle,  where  did  my  entrance  stop  you  ? 

Theresa. 
[Looking  at  him  with  emotion.] 
"  Courage !    Oh,  fallen  child  of  godlike  race. 
The  glory  of  your  birth  is  in  your  face ! 
All  men  who  look  on  you — " 

Maria   Louisa. 

That's  quite  sufficient. 

The   Archduchess. 
[  To  the  children.  ] 
Go,  bid  good  morrow  to  your  cousin. 

[The  children  run  up  to  the  Duke,  who  is  seated, 
and  surround  him.] 

SCARAMPI. 

[To  Theresa.] 


Fie! 


Theresa. 
Why,  what? 

A  Lady. 

[Looking  at  the  Duke.] 

How  pale  he  is! 

[36] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Another   Lady. 

He  looks  half  dead ! 

SCARAMPI. 

[To  Theresa.] 

You  chose  such  awkward  passages. 

Theresa. 

The  book 
Fell  open  by  itself.    I  did  not  choose. 

Gen  T  z . 

[JVho  has  overheard.] 

Books  always  open  where  most  often  read. 

Theresa. 
[Looking  at  the  Duke.] 
Archdukes  upon  his  knees ! 

The   Archduchess. 
[Leaning  over  the  hack  of  the  Duke's  chair.] 

I  am  delighted 
To  see  you,  Franz.    I  am  your  friend. 
[She  holds  out  her  hand  to  him.] 

The    Duke. 
[Kissing  her  hand.] 

I  know  it. 
Gen  T  z . 
[To  Theresa.] 

What  do  you  think  of  him  ?    I  say  he's  like 
A  cherub  who  had  secretly  read  "  Werther." 

The   Little   Girl. 
[To  the  Duke.] 
How  nice  your  collar  is ! 

The   Duke. 

Your  Highness  flatters. 

Theresa. 
His  collars ! 

[37] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Little   Boy. 
No  one  has  such  sticks! 

The   Duke. 

No.  No  one. 
Theresa. 
His  sticks ! 

The  Other  Little  Boy. 
Oh !  and  your  gloves ! 

The   Duke. 

Superb,  my  dear. 

The   Little   Girl. 
What  is  your  waistcoat  made  of? 

The   Duke. 

That's  cashmere. 

Theresa. 
Oh! 

The   Archduchess. 
And  you  wear  your  nosegay — ? 

The   Duke. 

Latest  fashion." 
In  the  third  buttonhole.    So  glad  you  noticed. 
[At  this  moment  Theresa  bursts  vito  sobs.] 

The   L  a*d  i  e  s  . 
Eh  ?    What's  the  matter  ? 

Theresa. 

Nothing.     I  don't  know. 
Forgive  me.    I'm  alone  here — far  from  friends. 
Oh,  it  was  silly ! — suddenly — 

Maria   Louisa. 

Poor  dear! 

Theresa. 
I  held  my  heart  in — 

[38] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Maria   Louisa. 

Tears  will  do  you  good. 

The   Duke. 
What's  this  I  trod  on  ?    Why,  a  white  cockade ! 

Metternich. 
H'm! 

The   Duke. 
[To  the  Attache.] 

Yours,  no  doubt,  sir.    Favor  me :  your  hat. 
\The  Attache  gives  him   his   hat   unwillingly. 
The  Duke  sees  the  tricolor  cockade.^ 
Ah! 
[To  Metternich.] 

I  was  not  aware — but  then — the  flag? 

Metternich. 


Highness — 


Nothing. 


The   Duke. 
Is  that  changed,  too  ? 

Metternich. 
The   Duke. 


A  trivial  detail. 


Metternich. 
Question  of  color — 

The   Duke. 

Of  a  shade. 
See  for  yourself.    Looked  at  in  certain  lights, 
I  really  think  this  is  the  more  effective.     [He  moves 
a  few  steps.] 

[His  mother  takes  him  by  the  arm  and  leads  him 
to  the  butterHy-cases,  which  the  Doctor^  who 
has  come  back,  has  spread  out.] 

The   Duke. 
Butterflies  ? 

r39l 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Maria   Louisa. 
You  admire  the  black  one? 

The   Duke. 


Charming. 


The   Doctor. 
The  plants  it  loves  are  umbelliferous. 

The   Duke. 
It  seems  to  see  me  with  its  wings. 

The   Doctor. 

Those  eyes'r 
.We  call  them  lunulae. 

The   Duke. 

Indeed?    I'm  glad.  *- 

The   Doctor. 
Are  you  examining  the  spotted  grey  ? 

The   Duke. 
No,  sir. 

The   Doctor. 
What  then,  my  lord  ? 

The   Duke. 

The  pin  that  killed  it. 

The   Doctor. 
[To  Maria  Louisa.] 
No  use. 

Maria   Louisa. 
[To  Scarampi.] 

We'll  wait.    I  count  on  the  effect — 

Scarampi. 
Ah,  yes ! — Of  our  surprise. 

G  E  N  T  z  . 
[Who  has  approached  the  Duke.] 

A  sweetmeat? 

[40] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
[Taking  one  and  tasting  it.] 

Perfect. 
A  flavor  of  verbena  and  of  pear, 
And  something  else — wait — yes — 

Ge  N  TZ . 

It's  not  worth  while — 

The   Duke. 
What's  not  worth  while  ? 

G  E  N  TZ . 

To  feign  an  interest. 
I'm  not  so  blind  as  Metternich. 
[He  offers  him  another  sweetmeat.] 

A  chocolate? 

The   Duke. 

What  do  you  see  ? 

G  E  N  T  z  , 
I  see  a  youth  who  suffers, 
Rather  than  live  a  favored  prince's  life. 
Your  soul  is  still  alive,  but  here  at  court 
They'll  lull  it  fast  asleep  with  love  and  music. 
I  had  a  soul  once,  like  the  rest  of  the  world ; 
But — !    And  I  wither,  decently  obscene — 
Till  some  day,  in  the  cause  of  liberty, 
One  of  those  rash  young  fools  of  the  University 
Amid  my  sweetmeats,  perfumes,  and  dishonor 
Slays  me  as  Kotzebue  was  slain  by  Sand. 
Yes,  I'm  afraid — do  try  a  sugared  raisin — 
That  I  shall  perish  at  his  hand. 

The   Duke. 

You  will. 

Gentz. 
What?— How? 

[41] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

T  H  E     DU  KE. 

A  youth  will  slay  you. 

Gentz. 

But— 

T  H  E     D  U  K  E. 

A  youth  of  your  acquaintance. 

Gentz. 

Sir—? 

The   Duke. 

His  name 
Is  Frederick.    'Tis  the  youth  you  were  yourself. 
For  now  he's  risen  again  in  you ;  and  since 
He  whispers  in  your  ear  like  dull  remorse. 
All's  over  with  you :  he  will  show  no  mercy. 

Gentz. 
'Tis  true,  my  youth  cuts  like  a  knife  within  me. 
Ah,  well  I  knew  that  gaze  had  not  deceived  me ! 
'Tis  that  of  one  who  ponders  upon  Empire. 

The   Duke. 
I  do  not  understand,  sir,  what  you  mean. 
[He  moves  azvay.] 

Metternich. 
[To  Gentz.] 
You've  had  a  chat  with — ? 


Gentz. 

Yes. 

Metternich. 

Delightful? 

Gentz. 

Very. 

M  ettern ich» 

He's  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand. 

L42] 

L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Gentz. 

Entirely. 

The   Duke. 
[Stopping  before  Theresa.] 
Why  did  you  weep? 

Theresa. 

Because,  my  Lord — 

The   Duke. 

Ah,  no! 
I  know.    But  do  not  weep. 

Metternich. 
[Bozmng  to  the  Duke.] 

I  take  my  leave. 
[He  goes  out  with  the  Attache.] 

The   Duke. 
[To  Maria  Louisa  and  Dietrichstein,  who  are  turn- 
ing over  some  papers  on  his  table.  ] 
Examining  my  work  ? 

Dietrichstein. 
It's  excellent. 
But  why  on  purpose  make  mistakes  in  German? 
Pure  mischief! 

Maria   Louisa. 
Oh !  and  at  your  age,  mischief ! 

The   Duke. 
How  can  I  help  it  ?    I  am  not  an  eagle. 

Dietrichstein. 
You  still  make  France  a  noun  of  feminine  gender. 

The   Duke. 
I  never  know  what's  der  or  die  or  das. 

Dietrichstein. 
In  this  case  neuter  is  correct. 

[43] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 

But  mean. 
I  don't  much  care  about  a  neuter  France. 

Maria  Louisa. 
[To  Thalberg,  who  is  playing  softly  on  the  piano.] 
My  son  detests  all  music. 

The   Duke. 

I  detest  it. 

Lord   Cowley. 
[Coming  toward  the  Duke.] 
Highness — 

Dietrichstein. 
[Aside  to  the  Duke.] 

A  pleasant  word. 

The   Duke. 

Eh? 


Dietrichstein 
Ambassador. 


The  English 


Lord   Cowley. 
Where  had  you  been  just  now 
When  you  came  galloping  and  out  of  breath? 

The   Duke. 
I  ?    To  Saint  Helena. 

Lord   Cow  ley. 

I  beg  your  pardon? 

The   Duke. 

A  wholesome,  leafy  nook.    So  gay ! — At  evening 
Delightful.    I  should  like  to  see  you  there. 

Ge  N  T  z  . 
[Hastily  to  the  Ambassador,  ivhile  the  DuKE  mot/tS 
away.  ] 

They  call  the  village  in  the  Helenenthal 
Saint  Helena.    A  fashionable  stroll. 

[44] 


L  '  A  r  G  L  O  N 

Lord   Cowley. 
Ah,  really?    I  was  almost  wondering 
Whether  he  meant  it  as  a  hit —  ? 
[He  turns  away.] 

G  EN  T  z. 

[Lifting  his  hands  in  amazement  at  Lord  Cowley's 
dulness.] 

■  ;..  i-1;  These  English! 

Voices. 
We're  off ! 

The   Archduchess. 
[To  Maria  Louisa.] 
Louisa? 

Maria   Louisa. 

No,  I  stay  at  home. 

Voices. 
The  carriages. 

The   Archduchess. 
[To  the  Duke.] 

And  you,  Franz? 

Maria   Louisa. 

He  hates  nature. 
He  even  gallops  through  Saint  Helena.  ' 

T  H  e    D  u  KE. 
Yes !    I  gallop ! 

[General  leave-taking  and  gradual  departure. 

Maria   Louisa. 
So  devoid  of  fancy ! 

Montenegro. 
[Going.] 

I  know  a  place  for  supper  where  the  cider— 

Cries. 

[Without.] 

Good-bye !     Good-bye ! 

[45] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Gentz. 

[On  the  terrace.] 

Don't  talk  about  the  hydra! 

Theresa. 

[To  TiBURTIUS.] 

Brother,  good-bye  I 

TiBURTIUS. 

Good-by. 
[He  goes  out  with  Bombelles.] 

Maria   Louisa. 
[To  the  Maids  of  Honor,  indicating  Theresa.] 

Show  her  her  rooms. 
[Theresa  goes  out  accompanied  by  the  Maids  of 
Honor.    Maria  Louisa  calls  the  Duke,  who  was 
going  toward  the  garden.] 

Maria   Louisa. 
Franz ! 

[He  turns.] 

Now  I'm  going  to  amuse  you. 

The   Duke. 

Really? 
[ScARAMPi  carefully  closes  all  the  doors.] 

Maria   Louisa. 
Hush  ! — I've  conspired  ! 

The   Duke. 

Mother !    You ! — Conspired ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
Hush !      They've    forbidden    whatever    comes    from 

France — 
But  I  have  ordered  secretly  from  Paris, 
From  the  best  houses — Oh  !  my  fop  shall  smile ! — 

C46J 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

For  you,  a  tailor, 
[Pointing  to  Scarampi,] 

and  for  us,  a  fitter. 
I  really  think  the  notion — 

The   Duke. 

Exquisite ! 

Scarampi. 
[Opening  the  door  of  Maria  Louisa's  apartment.] 
Come  in ! 

[Enter  a  young  lady,  dressed  with  the  elegance  of 
a  milliner's  dummy,  and  carrying  two  great 
card-board  dress-boxes,  and  a  young  man 
dressed  like  a  fashion  plate,  who  also  carries 
two  big  boxes.] 

The    Tailor. 
[Coming  down  to  the  Duke,  tvhile  the  young  lady  un- 
packs the  dresses  on  a  sofa  at  the  back.] 

If  you  will  favor  me,  my  Lord — 
I've  here  some  charming  novelties.     My  clients 
Are  good  enough  to  trust  my  taste :   I  guide  them. 
The  neck-cloths  first.    A  languid  violet ; 
A  serious  brown.    Bandannas  are  much  worn. 
I  note  with  pleasure  that  your  Highness  knows 
The  delicate  art  of  building  up  a  stock. 
Here's  a  check  pattern  makes  an  elegant  knot. 
How  does  this  waistcoat  strike  your  Lordship's  fancy, 
Down  which  meander  wreaths  of  blossoms? 

The   Duke. 

Hideous ! 
The   Tailor. 
Will  these,  I  wonder,  leave  your  Highness  cold  ? 
Here's  doeskin.    Here  a  genuine  Scottish  tweed. 
Bottle-green  riding-coat  with  narrow  cuffs ; 
Extremely  gentlemanly.    Here's  a  waistcoat: 

[47] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Six-buttoned.    Three  left  open.    Very  tasty. 

Now,  what  about  this  blue  frock-coat?    We've  rubbed 

The  newness  off  artistically.    Worn 

With  salt  and  pepper  trousers,  what  a  picture ! 

We'll  throw  aside  this  heavy  yellow  stuff — 

Can  Hamlet  wear  the  clumsy  clouts  of  Falstaff  ? — 

We'll  pass  to  mantles,  Prince.    A  splendid  plaid, 

Demi-collar  with  simili-sleeves  behind. 

Eccentric?    Granted. — This,  called  the  Rouliere: 

Sober,  a  large.  Hidalgo-like  effect ; 

The  very  thing  to  woo  a  Dona  Sol  in. 

Excellent  workmanship ;  a  silver  chain  ;  the  collar 

Of  finest  sable ;  made  in  our  own  workshops ; 

Simple,  but  what  a  cut !    The  cut  is  everything. 

Maria    Louisa. 
The  Duke  is  weary  of  your  chatter. 

The   Duke. 

No. 

He  sets  me  dreaming.    I'm  not  used  to  it. 

For  when  my  tailor  from  Vienna  comes 

I  never  hear  these  bright,  descriptive  words ; 

And  so  this  wealth  of  curious  adjectives 

And  all  that  seems  to  you  mere  vulgar  chatter, 

Has  moved  me — stirred  me.    Let  him  be,  dear  mother. 

Maria    Louisa. 
[Going  to  the  fitter.] 
We'll  look  at  ours.    Shoulder  of  mutton  sleeves? 

The   Fitter. 
Always. 

The   Tailor. 

[Displaying  a  pattern.] 

This  cloth  is  called  Marengo. 

The   Duke. 

What? 
Marengo  ? 

[48] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Tailor. 
Yes ;  it  wears  uncommon  well. 

The    Duke. 
So  I  should  think.    Marengo  lasts  forever. 

The   Tailor. 
Your  Highness  orders — ? 

T  h  e    D  U  K  E  . 

I  have  need  of  nothing. 

The   Tailor. 
One  always  needs  a  perfect-fitting  coat. 

The   Duke. 
I  might  invent — 

The   Tailor. 

To  suit  your  personal  taste? 
O  client,  soar  to  fancy's  wildest  heights ! 
Speak !    We  will  follow !    That's  our  special  line ; 
Why,  we  are  Monsieur  Theophile  Gautier's  tailors. 

The   Duke. 
Let's  see — 

The    Fitter. 
A  Panama  with  muslin  trimmings — 
That's  not  the  sort  of  hat  for  everybody. 

The   Duke. 
Could  you  make — 

The  Tailor. 

Anything. 

The   Duke. 

A— 


A  coat  ? 


The   Tailor 
The   Duke. 

[49] 


What  you  choose ! 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Tailor. 
Assuredly. 

The   Duke. 

Of  broadcloth.    Yes 
But  now  the  texture  ?    Simple  ? 

The   Tailor. 

Certainly. 

T  H  E   Du  ke. 

And  then  the  color.    What  do  you  say  to  green? 

The   Tailor. 
Green's  capital. 

T  H  E     Du  KE. 

A  little  coat  of  green. 
With  glimpses  of  the  waistcoat  ? 

The   Tailor. 

Coat  wide  open! 

The   Duke. 
Then,  to  give  color  when  the  wearer  moves, 
The  skirts  are  lined  with  scarlet. 

The   Tailor. 

Scarlet ! 

Oh,  ravishing. 

The   Duke. 

Well,  but  about  the  waistcoat. 
How  do  you  see  the  waistcoat? 

The   Tailor. 

Shall  we  say — ? 

The   Duke. 
The  waistcoat's  white. 

The  T  ai  lor. 
What  taste ! 

[50] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 


And  then  I  think 


Knee  breeches. 


The   Tailor. 
Ah! 

The   Duke. 
Yes. 

The   Tailor. 

Any  color? 

The   Duke, 

No. 

I  rather  think  I  see  them  white  cashmere. 

The   Tailor. 
Well,  after  all,  white  is  the  more  becoming. 

The   Duke. 
The  buttons  are  engraved. 

The   Tailor. 

That's  not  good  style. 

The   Duke. 
Yes ;  something — nothing — merely  little  eagles. 

The   Tailor. 
Eagles ! 

The   Duke. 

Well?    What  are  you  afraid  of,  sir? 
And  wherefore  does  your  hand  shake,  master  tailor? 
What  is  there  strange  about  the  suit  of  clothes  ? 
Do  you  no  longer  boast  your  skill  to  make  it  ? 

The    Fitter. 
Coalscuttle  bonnet  neatly  trimmed  with  poppies. 

The   Duke. 
Take  home  your  latest  fashions  and  your  patterns ; 
That  little  suit's  the  only  one  I  want. 

[51] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Tailor. 

ButI— 

The   Duke. 
'Tis  well.    Begone,  and  be  discreet. 

The   Tailor. 

Yet— 

The   Duke. 
'Twould  not  fit  me. 

The   Tailor. 

It  would  fit  you. 

The   Duke. 

The   Tailor. 
It  would  fit  you  well. 

The   Duke. 

You're  very  bold,  sir! 

The   Tailor. 
And  I'm  empowered  to  take  your  order  for  it. 

The   Duke. 
Ah! 

The   Tailor. 

Yes! 

The   Fitter. 
A  flowing  cloak  of  China  crape ; 
Embroidered  lining  with  enormous  sleeves. 

The   Duke. 
Indeed? 

The   Tailor. 
Yes,  Highness. 

The   Duke. 

A  conspirator? 
Now  I  no  longer  wonder  you  cite  Shakespeare ! 

[52] 


What! 


L  *  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Tailor. 
The  little  coat  of  green  holds  in  its  thrall 
Deputies,  schools,  a  Peer,  and  a  Field  Marshal. 

The    Fitter. 
Spencer  of  figured  muslin.    Satin  skirt. 

TheTailor. 
We  can  arrange  your  flight. 

The   Duke. 

Should  I  agree 
I  must  beforehand — ay,  and  there's  the  rub — 
Consult  my  friend  Prince  Metternich. 

The   Tailor. 
^  You'll  trust  us 

When  you  are  told  our  leader  is  your  cousin 
The  Countess  Camerata, 

The   Duke. 

Ah,  I  know ! 
The  daughter  of  Elisa  Baciocchi. 

The   Tailor. 
The  strange,  unarmored  amazon,  who  bears 
Her  father's  likeness  proudly  in  her  face. 
Seeks  dangers,  rides  unbroken  horses,  fences — 

The    Fitter. 
A  little  sleeveless  gown  of  lightest  muslin. 

The   Tailor. 
And  when  you  know  it's  this  Penthesilea — 

TheFitter. 
The  collar's  only  pinned,  the  shoulders  basted—  j 

TheTailor.  \ 

Who  heads  the  plot  I  spoke  of —  ^ 

The   Duke. 

Give  me  proof! 

[53] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Tailor. 
Turn  round,  your  Highness ;  glance  at  the  young  per- 
son 
Who  on  her  knees  unpacks  the  clothes. 

The   Duke. 

'Tis  she! 
Not  long  ago  I  met  her  in  Vienna, 
Wrapped  in  a  cloak.    She  swiftly  kissed  my  hand 
And  fled,  exclaiming,  Haven't  I  the  right 
To  greet  the  Emperor's  son  who  is  my  master  ? 
She  is  a  Bonaparte  !    We  are  alike ! — 
Ay,  but  her  hair  is  dark ;  not  fair  like  mine. 

Maria    Louisa. 
We'll  try  them  on  in  there.    Come,  follow  me. 
Only  Parisians,  Franz,  know  how  to  fit  us. 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E. 
Yes,  mother. 

Maria   Louisa. 
Don't  you  love  Parisian  taste? 

The    Duke. 
It's  very  true  they  dress  you  well  in  Paris. 

[Maria  Louisa,  Scarampi,  and  the  Fitter  go 
into  Maria  Louisa's  apartment  with  the  things 
they  are  to  try  on.] 

The   Duke. 
Now  !    Who  are  you,  sir  ? 

The   Tailor. 

I?    A  nameless  atom. 
Weary  of  life  in  mean  and  paltry  times. 
Of  smoking  pipes  and  dreaming  of  ideals. 
Who  am  I  ?    How  do  I  know  ?    That's  my  trouble. 
Am  I  at  all  ?— It's  very  hard  to  "  be." 
I  study  Victor  Hugo ;   spoiit  his  odes — 

[54] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

I  tell  you  this,  because  this  sort  of  thing 
Is  all  contemporary  youth.     I  spend 
Extravagant  fortunes  in  acquiring  boredom. 
I  am  an  artist,  Highness,  and  Young  France. 
Also  I'm  carbonaro  at  your  service. 
And  as  I'm  always  bored  I  wear  red  waistcoats, 
And  that  amuses  me.    At  tying  neck-cloths 
I  once  was  very  good  indeed.    That's  why 
They  sent  me  here  to-day  to  play  the  tailor, 
I'll  add,  to  make  the  picture  quite  complete, 
That  I'm  a  liberal  and  a  king-devourer. 
My  life  and  dagger  are  at  your  command. 

The    Duke. 
I  like  you,  sir,  although  your  talk  is  crazy. 

The   Young   Man. 
You  must  not  judge  me  by  my  whirling  words; 
The  itch  of  notoriety  consumes  me. 
But  the  disease  beneath  is  very  real, 
And  makes  me  seek  forgetfulness  in  danger. 

The   Duke. 
Disease  ? 

The   Young   Man. 
A  shuddering  disgust. 

'  Th  E     D  U  KE. 

Your  soul 
Heavy  with  foiled  ambitions? 

The   Young    Man. 

Dull  disquiet— 

The   Duke. 
Morbid  enjoyment  of  our  sufferings. 
And  pride  in  showing  off  our  pallid  brows  ? 

The   Young   Man. 
My  Lord! 

[55] 


My  Lord 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Contempt  for  those  who  live  content? 

The   Young    Man. 

T  H  E     DU  KE. 

And  doubt? 


The   Young   Man. 

In  what  mysterious  volume 
Has  one  so  young  learnt  all  the  human  heart? 
For  that  is  what  I  feel. 

The   Duke. 

Give  me  your  hand ! 
For,  as  a  sapling,  friend,  which  is  transplanted,  .^ 
Feels  all  the  forest  in  its  ignorant  veins, 
And  suffers  when  its  distant  mates  are  hurt, 
So  I,  who  knew  you  not,  here,  all  alone, 
Felt  the  distemper  stirring  in  my  blood 
Which  at  this  moment  blights  the  youth  of  France. 

The   Young    Man. 
Rather  I  think  our  malady  is  yours. 
For  whence  upon  you  falls  this  giant  robe  ? 
Child,  whom  beforehand  they  have  robbed  of  glory, 
Pale  Prince,  so  pale  against  your  sable  suit, 
Why  are  you  pale,  my  Prince  ? 

The   Duke. 

I  am  his  son. 
The   Young   Man. 
Well !  Feeble,  feverish,  dreaming  of  the  past, 
Like  you  rebellious,  what  is  left  to  do? — 
We're  all,  to  some  extent,  your  father's  sons. 

The   Duke. 

You  are  his  soldiers'  sons :  that's  just  as  glorious. 
And  'tis  no  less  redoubtable  a  burden ; 
But  it  emboldens  me,  for  I  can  say 

[56] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

They're  but  the  sons  of  heroes  of  the  empire : 
They'll  be  content  to  take  the  Emperor's  son ! 

The  Countess  Camerata. 
[Coming  out  of  Maria  Louisa's  apartments.] 
The  scarf! — Oh,  hush!    I'm  doing  such  a  trade! 

The   Duke. 

Thank  you ! 

The   Countess. 
I  only  wish  'twere  selling  swords  I 
That  silly  baby-talk  will  be  my  death. 

The   Duke. 
Warlike,  I  know. 

A   Voice. 

[Within.] 

The  scarf! 

The   Countess. 

I'm  looking  for  it! 

The   Duke. 
It  seems  this  little  hand  can  tame — 

The   Countess, 

I  love 


A  fiery  horse. 


The   Duke. 
You're  mistress  of  the  foils? 


The    Countess. 
And  of  the  sword ! 

The    Duke. 

Ready  for  anything? 

The    Countess. 
[Speaking  totvard  the  room.] 
Indeed,  I'm  looking  for  it  everywhere. 

[To  the  DuKE.l 
Ready  for  anything  for  your  Imperial  Highness. 

f  57] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

You're  lion-hearted,  Cousin ! 

The   Countess. 

And  my  name 
Is  glorious. 

T  H  e    Du  K  E. 
Which  name  ? 

The   Countess. 

Napoleone ! 

ScARAMPi's   Voice. 
[Within.] 

Well?    Can't  you  find  it ? 

The   Countess. 
No. 

A   Voi  CE. 

Look  on  the  piano. 

The   Countess. 
I  must  be  off.    Discuss  our  great  design. 

[With  a  cry,  as  if  she  had  found  what  she  was 
looking  for.  ] 
Ah !  here  it  is ! 

The   Voice. 
You've  found  it? 

TheCountess. 

On  the  harp. 
You  understand,  it's  gathered  up  in  folds — 
[She  goes  into  Maria  Louisa's  room.] 

The    Young    Man. 
Well  ?    You  accept  ? 

The    Duke. 

I  don't  quite  understand 
Zealous  Imperialism  from  a  liberal — 

r  58] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Young   Man. 
True :  a  republican — 

The   Duke. 

You  come  to  me 
Rather  a  long  way  round — 

The   Young   Man. 

All  roads  to-day 
Lead  to  the  King  of  Rome.  My  scarlet  badge 
I  thought  unfading — 

The  Duke. 

Faded  in  the  sun? 

The   Young   Man. 
Of  Austerlitz !    Yes !    History  makes  us  drunk. 
The  battles  which  no  more  are  fought,  are  told. 
The  blood  is  vanished,  but  the  glory  gleams, 
So  that  to-day  there  is  no  he  but  HE ! 
He  never  won  such  victories  as  now : 
His  soldiers  perished,  but  his  poets  live. 

The   Duke. 
In  short — 

The  Young   Man. 
In  short  the  huckstering  times ;  the  god 
They  exiled ;  you,  your  touching  fate,  our  weariness. 
And  ever>'thing — I  said — 

The   Duke. 

You  said  as  artist 
'Twould  be  effective  to  be  Bonapartist ! 

The   Young   Man. 
So  you  accept? 

The   Duke. 

No. 

The   Young   Man. 
What? 

I  59  1 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

T  H  E     Du  K  E. 

I  listened  well, 
And  you  were  charming  as  you  spoke,  but  nothing, 
No  quiver  of  your  voice,  told  me  of  France ; 
You  voiced  a  craze,  a  form  of  literature. 

The    Young    Man. 
I've  carried  out  my  mission  clumsily; 
Could  but  the  Countess  yonder  speak ! 

The   Duke. 

No  use.  — 
I  love  the  bravery  glowing  in  her  eyes. 
But  that's  not  France :   that  is  my  Family ! 
When  next  you  seek  me,  later,  by  and  by. 
Let  the  call  come  through  some  untutored  voice, 
Wherein  rough  accents  of  the  people  throb  ; 
Your  Byronism  is  much  too  like  myself. 
You  could  not  have  persuaded  me  to-night — 
I  feel  myself  unready  for  the  crown. 

The   Countess. 
[Coming  out  of  Maria  Louisa's  aparttnent.] 
Unready  ?    You  ? 

[She  turns  toward  the  room.] 

Don't  trouble;   Fm  just  going. 
And  for  the  ball  the  white  one,  not  the  mauve. 

[Coming  hastily  toward  the  Duke.] 
Unready  ?    What  do  you  want  ? 

The   Duke. 

A  year  of  dreams. 
Of  study. 

TheCountess. 
Come  and  reign. 

The   Duke. 

My  brain's  not  ripe.  . 

[60] 


L  '  A  T  G  L  O  N 

The   Countess. 
The  crown's  enough  to  ripen  any  brain. 

The   Duke. 
The  crown  of  light,  shed  by  the  midnight  lamp. 

The   Young   Man. 
It's  such  a  chance ! 

The   Duke. 

I  beg  your  pardon  ?    "  Chance  "  ? 
Is  this  the  tailor  reappearing? 

The   Countess. 
Yet— 

The   Duke. 
I  will  be  honest  in  default  of  genius. 
I  only  ask  three  hundred  wakeful  nights. 

The   Young   Man. 
But  this  refusal  will  confirm  the  rumors. 

The   Countess. 
They  say  you've  never  really  been  of  us. 

The   Young   Man. 
You  are  Young  France :  you're  called  Old  Austria. 

The   Countess. 
They  say  your  mind  is  being  weakened. 

The   Young   Man. 

Yes! 
They  say  you're  cheated,  even  in  your  studies. 

The   Countess. 
They  say  you  do  not  know  your  father's  history. 

The   Duke. 
Do  they  say  that  ? 

The   Young   Man. 

What  shall  we  answer  them? 
[6i] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Answer  them  thus — 

[Enter  Dietrichstein.] 
Dear  Count ! 

Dietrichstein. 

'Tis  Obenaus. 
The   Duke. 

Ah !  for  my  history  lesson !    Let  him  come. 

[Dietrichstein  goes  out.     The  Duke  points  to 
the  clothes  scattered  about.] 
Spend  as  much  time  as  possible  in  packing, 
And  try  to  get  forgotten  in  your  corner. 

[Seeing  Dietrichstein  come  in  with  Baron  von 
Obenaus.] 
Good-day,  dear  Baron. 

[Carelessly  to  the  Young  Man  and  the  Coun- 
tess, pointing  to  the  screen.] 

Finish  over  there. 
[To  Obenaus.] 
My  tailor, 

Obenaus. 
Ah? 

The   Duke. 
My  mother's  fitter. 

Obenaus. 


Yes? 


The   Duke. 

Will  they  disturb  you  ? 


Obenaus. 
[Who  has  seated  himself  behind  the  table  mith  Diet- 

BICHSTEIN.] 

Not  at  all,  ray  Lord. 
[62] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Duke. 
[Who  sits  facing  thou,  shurpening  a  pencil.] 
I'm  all  attention.    Let  me  sharpen  this 
To  note  a  date,  or  jot  down  an  idea. 

O  B  E  N  AU  s  . 

We'll  take  our  work  up  where  we  last  left  off. 
Eighteen  hundred  and  five,  I  think  ? 

The   Duke. 
[Busy  with  his  pencil.]  Exactly. 

O  B  E  N  AUS. 

In  eighteen  hundred  and  six — 

The   Duke. 

Did  no  event 
Make  that  year  memorable  ? 

O  B  EN  AU  s  . 

Which,  my  Lord? 

The   Duke. 
[Bloiiing  the  dust  off  the  pencil.] 
Why,  eighteen  hundred  and  five. 

ObE  N  AUS. 

I  beg  your  pardon. 
I  thought  you  meant — h*m — Destiny 
Was  cruel  to  the  righteous  cause.    We'll  cast 
Only  a  fleeting  glance  at  hapless  hours. 
When  the  philosopher  with  pensive  gaze — 

The   Duke. 
And  so  in  eighteen  five,  sir,  nothing  happened  ? 

O  B  e  N  A  u  s  . 
A  great  event,  my  Lord !    I  had  forgotten. 
The  restoration  of  the  Calendar. 
A  little  later,  having  challenged  England, 
Spain — 

[63] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 


[Demurely.] 

And  the  Emperor? 


O  B  E  N  AU  s  . 

Which  Emp — ? 


He— he— 


The   Duke. 

O  B  EN  AUS. 

The   Duke. 
Had  he  not  left  Boulogne? 

O  BEN  AUS, 


My  father. 


Oh,  yes. 


The   Duke. 
Where  was  he,  then  ? 

ObEN  AUS. 

Well,  as  it  happened,  here. 

The   Duke. 
[With  mock  amasevient.] 
Indeed? 

D  lETRICHSTEIN. 

[Hastily.] 

He  took  great  interest  in  Bavaria ! 

O  B  E  N  AUS . 
Your  father's  wishes  in  the  Pressburg  Treaty, 
As  far  as  that  went,  chimed  with  those  of  Austria. 

The   Duke. 
What  was  the  Pressburg  Treaty  ? 

O  B  EN  AUS. 

The  agreement 
Which  closed  an  era. 

The   Duke. 

There!    Pve  smashed  my  point! 

[64] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

O  B  E  N  A  U  S  . 

In  eighteen  hundred  and  seven — 

The    Duke. 

So  soon  ?    How  quick  ! 
Strange  epoch  !    Nothing  happened  in  it ! 

O  B  E  N  A  u  s  . 

Yes. 
For  instance,  take  the  House  of  the  Braganzas : 
The  King — 

The   Duke. 
The  Emperor,  sir? 

O  B  E  N  A  U  S  . 

Which  Emp — ? 

The   Duke. 

Of  France. 
O  B  e  N  A  u  s  . 

Nothing  of  any  consequence  till  eighteen-eight. 
Yet  let  us  note  the  Treaty  of  Tilsit. 

The    Duke. 
Was  nothing  done  but  making  treaties? 

O  B  e  N  A  u  s  . 

Europe — 
The   Duke. 
I  see.    A  general  survey  ? 

O  B  E  N  A  U  S  . 

ril  come  to  details 


When  we' 


ve — 


The   Duke. 
Did  nothing  happen? 

O  B  E  N  A  u  s  . 

Well— 
The   Duke. 

Well,  what? 

[65] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

O  B  E  N  AU  S. 
I— 

The   Duke. 

What  ?    What  happened  ?    Won't  you  tell  me  ? 

O  be  N  AUS. 

Well— 

I  hardly  know — you're  in  a  merry  humor — 

The    Duke. 
You  hardly  know?    Then,  gentlemen,  I'll  tell  you!  — 
The  sixth  October,  eighteen-five — 

O  B  e  N  A  u  s    and    Dietrichstein. 
[Leaping  to  their  feet.] 

Eh?    What? 
The   Duke. 
When  he  was  least  expected,  when  Vienna,    • — ' 
Watching  the  Eagle  hover  ere  he  swooped, 
Sighed  with  relief,  The  blow  is  aimed  at  London ! 
Having  left  Strassburg,  crossed  the  Rhine  at  Kehl, 
The  Emperor — 

O  B  e  N  A  u  s. 
Emperor! 

The  Duke. 

Yes !  and  you  know  which ! 
Marches  through  Wiirtemberg,  marches  through  Ba- 
den— 

Dietrichstein. 
Great  Heavens ! 

T  h  e  D  u  k  E. 

Gives  Austria  a  morning  song, 
With  drums  by  Soult,  and  trumpets  by  Murat ! 
At  Wertingen  and  Augsburg  leaves  his  Marshals 
With  here  and  there  a  victory  to  play  with — 

ObE  N  AUS. 

My  Lord ! 

[  66  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Pursues  with  wonderful  manoeuvres, 
Arrives  at  Ulm  before  he's  changed  his  boots, 
Bids  Ney  take  Elchingen,  sits  down  and  writes 
A  joyous,  terrible,  and  calm  despatch. 
Prepares  the  assault : — the  seventeenth  October 
Sees  seven  thousand  Austrians  disarmed, 
And  eighteen  generals  at  the  hero's  feet ; 
And  then  he  starts  again ! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

My  Lord ! 

The   Duke. 

November 

Finds  him  at  Schonbrunn,  sleeping  in  my  bedroom, 

O  B  E  N  A  u  s  . 
But—! 

The   Duke. 

He  pursues !  his  foes  are  in  his  hand ! 

One  night  he  says  "  To-morrow !  "  and  to-morrow 

Says,  galloping  along  the  bannered  front — 

A  spot  of  grey  among  his  brilliant  staff — 

"  Soldiers,  we'll  finish  with  a  thunderbolt !  " 

The  army  is  an  ocean.    He  awaits 

The  rising  sun,  and  places  with  a  smile 

This  risen  sun  athwart  his  history ! 

O  B  e  N  AU  s. 
Oh,  Dietrichstein ! 

The   Duke. 
So  there ! 

Dietrichstein. 

Oh,  Obenaus ! 

The   Duke. 
Terror  and  death !    Two  Emperors  beaten  by  one ! 
And  twenty  thousand  prisoners ! 

[67  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

ObE  N  AU  S. 

I  beseech  you! 
People  might  hear! 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E. 

When  the  campaign  was  over — 
The  corpses  floating  on  the  freezing  lake — 
My  Grandsire  seeks  my  Father  in  his  camp! 

O  B  E  N  AU  s. 
My  Lord! 

The  Duke. 
His  camp! 

O  B  e  N  A  u  s. 

Will  nothing  keep  you  quiet? 

The   Duke. 
And  so  my  Father  grants  my  Grandsire  peace ! 

Dietrichstein. 
If  any  heard  you ! 

The   Duke. 

And  the  conquered  banners 
Distributed  !    Eight  to  the  town  of  Paris — 

[The  Countess  and  the  Young  Man  have  gradu- 
ally come  out,  pale  and  excited,  from  behind  the 
screen.  They  listen  to  the  Duke  zmth  increas- 
ing emotion,  and  suddenly  the  boxes  they  are 
carrying  slip  from  their  hands.] 

O  B  E  N  A  U  S  . 

[Turning  and  seeing  them.] 
Oh! 

The   Duke. 
The  Senate  fifty ! 

O  B  E  N  A  U  S  . 

Look !    The  man  and  woman ! 
[68] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

Be  off  with  you ! 

The   Duke. 
Fifty  to  Notre  Dame  I 

O  B  E  N  A  us. 
Oh,  Lord !    Oh,  Lord ! 

The   Duke. 

And  banners! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

Take  your  things! 
[He  pushes  them  out.] 
Be  off!    Be  off  I 

The   Duke. 

And  banners !    And  still  banners ! 
[The  Countess  and  The  Young  Man  go.] 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

They  heard  it  all ! 

The   Duke. 
And  banners ! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

What  a  business! 

My  LxDrd ! 

The   Duke. 
I'm  dumb! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

A  little  late,  my  Lord ! 
What  will  Prince  Metternich — ?    These  people  here! 

T  H  E   Du  ke. 

Moreover,  that's  as  far  as  I  have  got.    ^ 
My  dear  professor — 
[He  cotighs.] 

[69  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

Oh,  you're  coughing!     Water.' 

The  Duke. 
I've  made  good  progress  with  my  history? 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

And  yet  no  books  come  near  you!    That  I'm  sure  of! 

O  B  E  N  A  u  s  . 
When  IMetternich  discovers — 

The  Duke. 

You  won't  tell  him! 
The  blame  would  fall  on  you. 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

We'd  best  keep  still, 
And  ask  his  mother  to  expostulate. 

[He  knocks  at  Maria  Louisa's  door.] 
The  Duchess — ? 

Scarampi. 
[Appearing.] 

She  is  ready.    You  may  come. 
[DiETRICHSTEIN  goes  in.] 

The   Duke. 
[Mockingly,  to  Obenaus.] 
Your  course,  Ad  usum,  sir,  DelpJiini,  sir, 
Is  finished,  sir ! 

Obenaus. 
I  can't  think  how  you  learnt — I 
[Maria  Louisa  conies  in  in  great  agitation,  in  a 
superb  ball-dress,  and  with  her  cloak  on.    Oben- 
aus and  DiETRICHSTEIN  go  out  quietly.] 

Maria  Louisa. 
Oh  Heavens !  what  is't  again  ?    What  must  I  hear  ? 
Perhaps  you  will  explain — 

[70] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

[Shozmng  her  the  open  window.] 

My  mother,  look, 

The  day  is  hushed,  but  for  belated  birds. 
Oh,  with  what  tenderness  the  gloaming  fades ! 
The  trees — 

Maria    Louisa. 
What,  you !    Can  you  feel  nature's  beauty  ? 

T  H  E    Du  K  E. 
Perhaps. 

Maria    Louisa. 

Perhaps  you  will  explain — 

The   Duke. 

Oh,  mother,^ 
Inhale  the  perfume.    All  the  forest  floats 
Into  the  chamber  on  its  breath  ! 

Maria    Louisa. 

Explain ! 
The   Duke. 
With  every  gust  a  branch  is  wafted  in  !  v. 
A  fairer  miracle  than  that  which  scared 
Macbeth  ;  the  forest  is  not  walking  only. 
Not  like  a  mad  thing  walking ;  lo !  on  wings 
The  scented  evening  sets  the  forest  flying ! 

MariaLouisa. 
What !    You  can  be  poetical ! 

T  h  e    D  u  K  E  . 

At  times. 
[Distant  music  is  heard.] 
Listen  !    A  waltz.    An  ordinary  waltz  ; 
Yet  distance  gives  it  dignity.  Who  knows? 
Journeying  through  the  woods  the  master  haunted. 
Under  the  cyclamen,  among  the  bracken. 
It  may  have  chanced  upon  Beethoven's  soul ! 

[71] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Maria   Louisa. 
What !    Musical  as  well ! 

The   Duke. 

Yes ;   when  I  choose.  — - 
I  do  not  choose !    I  hate  the  mystery 
Of  sounds !    And  in  a  lovely  sunset,  feel 
With  dread  some  fair  thing  growing  soft  within  me ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
That  fair  thing  in  your  heart,  my  son,  is  I ! 

The   Duke. 
You  said  it. 

Maria   Louisa. 
Do  you  hate  it  ? 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E. 

I  love  you. 

Maria   Louisa. 
Then  think  a  little  ere  you  do  me  harm. 
My  father  and  Prince  Metternich  are  so  good ! 
When  the  decree,  for  instance,  made  you  Count, 
I  said.  Not  Count ;  Duke  at  the  least :  for  Duke 
Is  something.    And  you're  Duke  of  Reichstadt. 

The  Duke. 
Lord  of  Gross-Bohen,  Buchtiehrad,  Tirnowan, 
Schwaden,  Kron-Porsitschan — 

Maria    Louisa. 

And  then,  the  tact! 
Your  father's  name  was  never  mentioned  once ! 

The   Duke. 
Why  not  have  called  me  "  Son  of  unknown  Father  "  ? 

Maria    Louisa. 
With  your  estates  and  revenues  you  can  be 
The  pleasantest  and  richest  Prince  of  Austria. 

[72] 


Of — Austria ! 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
The  richest  Prince  ? 

Maria   Louisa. 

And  pleasantest — 

The   Duke. 

Maria    Louisa. 
Enjoy  your  happiness. 

The   Duke. 

I  drain  its  lees. 

Maria    Louisa. 
First  in  precedence  after  the  Archdukes, 
Some  day  you'll  marry  with  a  fair  Princess, 
Or  an  Archduchess,  or  perhaps  a — 

The   Duke. 

Ever 
I  see  what  once  my  childish  eyes  caught  sight  of:  i* 

His  little  throne,  whose  back  was  like  a  drum, 
And,  made  of  gold,  more  splendid  since  Saint  Helena. 
Upon  that  back  the  simple  little  N, 
The  letter  which  cries  No  to  time  I 

Maria   Louisa. 

But— 

The   Duke. 

Yes! 

The  N  with  which  he  branded  Kings ! 

Maria   Louisa. 

The  Kings 
Whose  blood  runs  through  your  mother's  veins  and 
yours ! 

The   Duke. 
I  do  not  need  their  blood !    What  use  to  me  ?  ^ 

[73] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

MariaLouisa. 
A  glorious  heritage! 

The  Duke. 
Oh,  paltry ! 

Maria  Louisa. 

What! 
Not  proud  to  bear  the  blood  of  Charles  the  Fifth? 

The  Duke. 

No !   for  it  courses  in  the  veins  of  others  L i 

But  when  I  tell  myself  I  bear  in  mine 
A  Corsican  Lieutenant's  blood,  I  weep 
To  see  the  thin  blue  trickle  at  my  wrist. 

MariaLouisa. 
Franz ! 

The  Duke. 
And  the  old  blood  can  but  harm  the  new. 
If  I  bear  blood  of  Kings,  let  me  be  bled. 

Maria  Louisa. 
Silence ! 

The  Duke. 
What  am  I  saying,  after  all? 
If  ever  I  had  yours  long  since  I've  lost  it. 
His  blood  and  yours  have  fought  in  me,  and  yours 
Was  put  to  flight,  as  usual,  by  the  other. 

MariaLouisa. 
Peace,  Duke  of  Reichstadt! 

The  Duke. 

Metternich,  the  fool, 
Thought  to  scrawl  "  Duke  of  Reichstadt  "  o'er  my  name. 
But  hold  the  paper  up  before  the  sun : 
You'll  see  "  Napoleon  "  in  the  watermark  1 

Maria  Louisa. 
My  son! 

[74] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

T  H  E     D  U  K  E  . 

You  called  me  Duke  of  Reichstadt  ?    No ! 
But  would  you  have  my  veritable  name  ? 
'Tis  what  the  people  call  me  in  the  Prater 
As  they  make  way :   The  Little  Bonaparte ! 
I  am  his  son !  and  no  one's  son  but  his ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
You  hurt  me. 

The   Duke. 
Ah,  forgive  me,  mother,  mother. 
Go  to  the  ball,  forget  my  frenzied  words. 
You  need  not  even  trouble  to  repeat  them 
To  Metternich,  my  mother. 


Maria   Louisa. 

Do  you  think  so? 


The   Duke. 
Softly  the  waltz  floats  through  the  evening  air ; 
No,  tell  him  nothing ;  that  will  save  you  trouble. 
Forget  it  all :  you,  who  forget  so  quickly ! 

Maria    Louisa. 
Yet— 

The   Duke. 
Think  of  Parma,  of  the  Sala  palace, 
And  of  your  happy  life.    Is  this  a  brow 
To  bear  the  shadow  of  an  eagle's  wing? 
Ah !  but  I  love  you  more  than  you  can  think ! 
And  take  no  heed  of  aught — not  even — O  gods  !— 
Of  being  faithful:    I'll  be  that  for  both. 
Come,  let  me  thrust  you  gently  toward  the  ball ; 
Good-night.    The  mosses  must  not  wet  your  feet 
Your  headdress  is  perfection. 

Maria   Louisa. 

Do  you  think  so? 

[75] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

The  carriage  waits.    It's  fine.    The  night  is  clear. 
Good-night,  Mamma;   enjoy  yourself, 

[Maria  Louisa  goes  out.    The  Duke  sinks  in  a 
chair  before  his  table.] 

Alas, 
Poor  mother ! 

[His  manner  changes,  and  .he  draws  books  and 
papers  toward  him.] 

Now !  to  work ! 
[The  wheels  of  a  departing  carriage  are  heard. 
The  door  at  the  back  opens  gently  and  Gentz 
is  seen  introducing   a  woman  wrapped  in  a 
cloak.] 

Gentz. 

She's  gone! 
[He  calls  the  Prince.] 
Prince ! 

The   Du  ke. 

[Turning  and  seeing  him.] 
Fanny  ? 

Fan  NY   Elssler. 
Franz ! 


[Aside.] 


Gentz. 


Farewell  to  dreams  of  Empire ! 


Fanny. 

[In  the  Duke's  arms.] 
Franz ! 

Gentz, 

[Going  out.] 

Capital ! 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Fanny. 
[Lovingly.] 

My  Franz! 
[The   door   closes   on    Gentz.      Fanny   quickly 
leaves  the  Duke  and  speaks  respectfully  after 
making  a  profound  curtsey.] 

My  Lord ! 

The   Duke. 

[After  looking  round  to  assure  himself  Gentz  is  gone.] 

To  work ! 
Fanny. 
[Szvinging  herself  on  to  the  table.] 
I've  learnt  whole  chapters  for  to-day! 

The   Duke. 

Go  on. 

Fanny. 

So,  then,   while   Marshal   Ney   marched   through   the 

night, 

The  Generals  Gazan — 

The   Duke. 
[Learning  the  names  by  heart.] 

Gazan — 

Fanny. 

Suchet — 

The   Duke. 

Suchet — 

Fanny. 
Kept  up  a  lively  cannonade ; 
And  at  the  earliest  dawn  the  Imperial  Guard — 

Curtain. 


.ui. 


'7©c 


Mi 


f^9^ 


#^9% 


[78] 


THE  SECOND  ACT 


The  Duke's  cabinet  at  Schbnhrunn.  It  is  the  famous 
Lacquered  Chamber.  At  the  back  is  a  ztnndozv 
opening  on  a  balcony.  In  the  distance,  at  the  end 
of  a  beautiful  avenue,  the  "  Gloriette,"  a  Corin- 
thian Portico.  There  are  two  doors  on  the  left, 
and  two  on  the  right.  Bctzveen  these  doors  stand 
two  large  Louis  XV.  consoles.  There  is  a  large 
writing-table  and  other  furniture  in  the  styles  of 
Louis  XIV.  and  Louis  XV.  In  the  right-hand 
corner  in  front  stands  a  large  swinging  mirror, 
with  its  back  to  the  audience. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  Sedlnizky  {the  Prefect  of 
the  Police),  the  Usher,  and  a  number  of  Lackeys 
are  discovered. 


T 


Sedlnizky. 
HAT'S  all? 

First   Lackey. 
That's  all. 

Sedlnizky. 

Nothing  abnormal? 

Second  Lackey. 

Nothing. 


Eats  little. 


Third  Lackey. 

Fourth   Lackey. 
Reads  a  lot. 

[79] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Fifth   Lackey. 

Sleeps  very  badly. 

Sedlnizky. 
[To  the  Usher.] 
And  can  you  trust  his  personal  attendants? 

The  Usher. 
Why,  they  are  all  professional  policemen, 
As  you,  the  Prefect  of  Police,  must  know. 

Sedlnizky. 
Thank  you.     I  fear  the  Duke  may  find  me  here. 

First  Lackey. 
No,  sir;  he's  out. 

Second  Lackey. 

As  usual  at  this  hour. 

Third  Lackey. 
In  uniform. 

Fourth   Lackey. 

And  with  his  Aides-de-Camp. 

The   Usher. 
There  are  manoeuvres. 

Sedlnizky. 

Well,  be  keen  and  tactful. 
Let  him  not  know  he's  watched. 
The  Usher. 

Fm  very  cunning. 

Sedlnizky. 
Not  too  much  zeal !     I  dread  a  zealous  man. 
Don't  listen  at  his  keyhole  in  a  crowd. 

The  Usher. 
I've  given  that  duty  to  a  special  man. 

Sedlnizky. 
To  whom? 

The  Usher. 
The  Piedmontese. 

[80] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Sedlnizky. 

Ah  yes  ;   he's  clever. 

The  Usher. 
I  place  him  every  evening  in  this  chamber 
Immediately  his  Highness  seeks  his  room. 

Sedlnizky. 
Is  he  here  now  ? 

The  Usher. 
No.    As  he  wakes  all  night 
He  sleeps  by  daytime,  while  the  Duke  is  out. 
He'll  be  here  when  the  Duke  is. 

Sedlnizky. 

Let  him  watch. 

The  Usher. 

Trust  me. 

Sedlnizky. 

[Glancing  at  the  table.] 

The  papers — ? 

The  Usher. 
[With  a  smile.] 

Searched. 

Sedlnizky. 

[Stooping  under  the  table.] 

The  basket,  too? 

[Seeing  scraps  of  paper  under  the  table,  he  hastily 

kneels  to  examine  them.] 

These  scraps? 

[He  tries  to  read.] 

Perhaps  a  letter? 

[Urged  by  professional  curiosity  he  creeps  under 

the  table.] 

But  from  whom? 

[The  Duke  enters  in  the  uniform  of  an  Austrian 

officer,  folloived  by  his  Staff.     The  Lackeys 

hurriedly  range  themselves.] 

[8i] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 
[Seeing  Sedlnizky's  legs  protruding  from  under  the 
table;   very  simply.] 

Why,  how  are  you,  Sedlnizky  ? 

Sedlnizky. 
[Emerging  amazed  on  all  fours.] 

Highness ! 

The  Duke. 
An  accident.     Excuse  me.     Just  come  in. 

Sedlnizky. 
[Standing.] 
You  knew  me?    Yet  I  was — 

The  Duke. 

Flat  on  your  stomach? 
Oh  yes,  I  knew  you. 

[He  sees  the  Archduchess,  ivho  enters  hurriedly 
carrying  a  large  album.] 

Ah,  I  feared  as  much! 
They've  frightened  you. 

The   Archduchess. 
They  told  me — 

The  Duke. 

It  was  nothing. 

The  Archduchess. 
But  yet— 

T  H  e  D  u  K  e. 
[Seeing  Doctor  Malfatti  enter.] 

The  doctor !    But  I  am  not  ill !  -— 
[To  the  Archduchess.] 
Nothing.    A  choking.     So  I  left  parade. 
I  had  been  shouting. 

[To  the  Doctor,  ivho  is  feeling  his  pulse.] 

Doctor,  you're  a  nuisance! 
[To  Sedlnizky,  who  is  sidling  toward  the  ddOT.I 
'Twas  very  kind  of  you  to  sort  my  papers. 

[82] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

You're  spoiling  me.    Indeed  you  are.    You've  chosen 

Even  my  lackeys  from  among  your  friends. 

Sedlnizky. 

Your  Highness  does  not  think — ! 

The  Duke, 

I  shouldn't  mind 

If  only  they  performed  their  duties  better. 

But  I  am  villanously  groomed.     My  stock 

Rides  up.    In  short,  since  this  is  your  department, 

I  wish  you'd  black  my  boots  a  little  better. 

[A  Lackey  brings  a  tray  zvith  refrcsJimcnts,  which 

the  Doctor  takes.] 

The  Archduchess. 

\Anxious  to  help  the  Duke  from  the  tray.] 

Franz — 

The  Duke. 

{To  Sedlnizky,  tvho  is  again  making  for  the  door.] 

You  take  nothing — ? 

Sedlnizky. 

I  have  taken — 

The  Archduchess. 

A  Tartar ! 

The  Duke. 

Orders,  Foresti ! 

F  o  R  E  s  T  I . 

Colonel ! 

Th  F.  Duke. 

We'll  manoeuvre 
At  early  dawn  the  day  after  to-morrow ; 
Assemble  at  Grosshofifen. 

Foresti. 

Good,  my  Colonel! 

The  Duke. 
[To  the  Officers.] 

I'll  not  detain  you,  gentlemen.    Good-day. 
[Foresti  and  the  Officers  go  out.] 

[83] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 
[To  Sedlnizky,  taking  a  letter  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
tossing  it  toward  him.] 

Dear  Count,  here  is  another  you've  not  read. 
[Sedlnizky  and  the  Doctop  go  out.] 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

[Who  came  in  a  moment  ago.] 

I  think  you  treat  him  rather  harshly,  Highness. 

The   Archduchess. 
Is  not  the  Duke  at  perfect  Hberty? 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

Of  course  the  Duke  is  not  a  prisoner,  but — 

The   Duke. 
I  like  that  "  but,"  I  hope  you  feel  its  value ! 
Good  Lord,  I'm  not  a  prisoner,  "  but  "—that's  an ! 
"  But  "—not  a  prisoner,  "  but  "—that  is  the  word, 
The  formula !    A  prisoner?    Oh,  not  a  moment ! 
"  But  "  there  are  always  people  at  my  heels. 
A  prisoner?    Not  I !    You  know  I'm  not ; 
"  But  "  if  I  risk  a  stroll  across  the  park 
A  hidden  eye  blossoms  behind  each  leaf. 
Of  course  not  prisoner,  "  but  "  let  anyone 
Seek  private  speech  with  me,  beneath  each  hedge 
Up  springs  the  mushroom  ear.    I'm  truly  not 
A  prisoner,  "  but  "  when  I  ride,  I  feel 
The  delicate  attention  of  an  escort. 
I'm  not  the  least  bit  in  the  world  a  prisoner, 
"  But  "  I'm  the  second  to  unseal  my  letters. 
Not  at  all  prisoner,  "  but  "  at  night  they  post 
A  lackey  at  my  door — look !  there  he  goes. 
I,  T;)uke  of  Reichstadt,  prisoner?    Never!  never! 
I,  prisoner?    No!    I'm  not  a  prisoner — "  but  " — ! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

I  love  to  see  this  mirth — so  rare — 

[84] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  ON 

The  Duke. 

Yes,  devilish! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

[Taking  his  leave.] 
Your  Highness — 

The   Duke. 
Serenissimus ! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 

Eh! 
The   Duke. 


— issimus! 
That  is  my  title.    My  particular  title 
Kindly  remember  it  another  time ! 

DiETRICHSTEIN. 
[Bozinng.] 
I  leave  you — 
[He  goes.] 

TheDuke.  ^ 

[To  the  Archduchess.] 

Serenissimus !   how  glorious ! 
[Pointing  to  the  album.] 
What's  that  ? 

The  Archduchess. 
The  Emperor's  herbarium. 

The  Duke. 


Lord! 


Grandpapa's  botany! 

The  Archduchess 
He  lent  it  me 
This  morning,  Franz. 

The  Duke. 

[Examining  it.] 

It's  pretty. 

[85] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Archduchess. 

You  know  Latin, 
What  is  this  withered  black  thing? 

The   Duke. 

That's  a  rose. 

The   Archduchess. 
Franz,  there's  been  something  wrong  with  you  of  late. 

The   Duke. 
[Reading.] 
Bengalensis. 

The   Archduchess. 
Of  Bengal  ? 

The   Duke. 

That's  right. 

The   Archduchess. 
I  find  you  nervous.    What's  the  matter  ? 

The   Duke. 

Nothing. 

The   Archduchess. 

Yes,  but  I  know,  your  bosom-friend  Prokesch, 

The  confidant  of  hopes  they  think  too  vast, 

They've  sent  him  far  away. 

The   Duke. 

But  in  exchange 
They  give  me  Marshal  Marmont  as  a  friend. 
Despised  in  France,  he  crawls  to  Austria 
To  gather  praise  for  treason  to  my  Father. 

The   Archduchess. 

Hush! 

The  Duke 

And  a  man  like  that  is  here  to  set 

The  son  against  the  Father! — Oh! — 

[Reading.] 

Voluhilis. 

[86] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Archduchess. 
Franz,  when  you  promise  do  you  keep  your  word? 

The    Duke. 
You've  been  so  good  to  me,  I  could  not  break  it. 

The   Archduchess. 
Besides,  you  liked  my  birthday  present,  Franz. 

The   Duke. 
Ah;  yes !    These  relics  from  the  archducal  trophy  ! 

[He  takes  the  things  he  mentions,  ivhich  arc  on  a 
console  between  the  doors  on  the  right.] 
A  tinder  box — a  busby  of  the  Guard — 
An  ancient  musket — No !   it  isn't  loaded  1 
And  above  all — 

The  Archduchess. 
Oh,  hush! 

The   Duke. 

That  other  thing— 
I've  hidden  it. 

The   Archduchess. 
Where,  you  bandit? 

The   Duke. 

In  mv  den. 

The   Archduchess. 
Well,  promise  then — your  grandfather — you  know 
His  kindness — 

The   Duke. 
[Picking  up  a  paper  which  has  fallen  from  the  her- 
barium.] 

What  is  this?    A  sheet  of  paper  I' 
[He  reads.] 
"And  if  the  students  still  persist  in  shouting, 
Let  them  be  crimped  and  sent  on  active  service — "  _ 

[To  the  Archduchess.] 
You  said — his  kindness — 

[87] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Archduchess. 

Yes ;  the  Emperor  loves  you. 
His  goodness — 

The   Duke. 
[Picking  up  another  paper  fallen  from  the  herbarium.] 
Here's  another. 
[He  reads.] 

"  As  the  mob 
Resist  you,  cut  them  down." 
[To  the  Archduchess.] 

His  goodness— 

The   Archduchess. 
He  hates  the  ferment  of  the  modern  mind. 
But  he's  an  excellent  old  man. 

T  h  E    Du  KE. 

^Two-sided. 
Flowers  from  whose  leaves  death-sentences  are  shed. 
Good  Emperor  Franz  is  like  these  specimens. 

[He  closes  the  herbarium.] 
However,  he's  beloved,  he's  popular, 
I  love  him  well. 

The   Archduchess. 

How  he  could  help  your  cause ! 

The   Duke. 
Ah !  if  he  would ! 

The   Archduchess. 

Promise  you'll  never  fly 
Until  you've  tried  your  utmost  with  him. 

The   Duke. 

Yes, 
I  promise  that. 

The  Archduchess. 
And  I'll  reward  you  now. 

[88] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
You? 

The   Archduchess. 
Oh,  one  has  one's  httle  influence ! 
The  astounding  Prokesch  they  deprived  you  of — 
I  said  and  did  so  much — in  short,  he's  here. 

[She  strikes  the  ground  ztnth  her  parasol.  The 
door  opens  and  Prokesch  enters.  The  Duke 
rushes  to  him.  The  Archduchess  goes  out 
quickly.  ] 

The   Duke. 
At  last ! 

Prokesch. 
They  may  be  listening. 

The   Duke. 

Oh,  they  are! 
They  never  tell,  though. 

Prokesch. 
What  ? 

The   Duke. 

Pve  tested  them. 
Uttered  the  most  seditious  sentiments ; 
They've  never  been  repeated.    Never. 

Prokesch. 

Strange ! 

The   Duke. 
I  think  the  listener,  paid  by  the  police, 
Pockets  the  cash  and  stops  his  friendly  ears. 

Prokesch. 
The  Countess  Camerata?    Any  news? 

The   Duke. 
Nothing. 

Prokesch. 
Oh! 

[89] 


4 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

Nothing.    She's  forgotten  me; 
Or  else  she's  been  discovered — or,  perhaps — 
What  folly  not  to  have  fled  last  year !    And  yet 
'Twas  better;  now  I'm  readier,  but — forgotten. 

Prokesch. 
Oh,  hush  !    Your  work-room?    Charming. 

The   Duke. 

It's  Chinese. 
The  hideous  gilded  birds !    The  nightmare  faces 
Sneering  with  scorpion-smiles  from  every  corner! 
They  lodge  me  in  the  famous  lacquered  chamber 
So  that  my  uniform  may  seem  more  white 
Against  the  blackness  of  its  glowing  walls ! 

Pro  k  es  c  h . 
Prince! 

The   Duke. 

They've  surrounded  me  with  fools  and  knaves. 

Prokesch. 
What  have  you  done  these  last  six  months  ? 

The   Duke. 

I've  raged ! 

Prokesch. 

I'd  never  seen  this  Schonbrunn. 

The   Duke. 

It's  a  tomb. 

Prokesch. 
The  Gloriette  looks  well  against  the  sky. 

The   Duke. 
Yes,  while  my  heart  is  hungering  for  glory 
I've  that  diminutive :  the  Gloriette ! 

Prokesch. 
You've  all  the  park  to  ride  in. 

[90] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 

Oh,  the  park 
Is  much  too  little. 

Prokesch. 

Well,  then,  the  valley. 

The  Duke. 
The  valley  is  too  little  for  a  gallop. 

Prokesch. 
What  do  you  want  for  galloping? 

The  Duke. 

All  Europe ! . 

Prokesch. 
Oh,  hush ! 

The  Duke. 

When  from  the  glowing  page  of  history 
I  lift  dazed  eyes,  a  forehead  splashed  with  glory, 
Closing  my  Plutarch,  leap  with  thee,  O  Caesar, 
Upon  a  conquered  land,  with  Alexander, 
With  Hannibal,  with  thee,  my  Father — 

A   Lackey. 
[Entering.] 

What 
Will  your  Highness  please  to  wear  to-night  ? 

The   Duke. 
[To  Prokesch.] 
There ! 

[To  the  Lackey.] 

I'm  not  going  out. 
[The  Lackey  disappears.] 

Prokesch. 
[Who  has  been  turning  over  some  books.] 

They  let  you  read? 

[91] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 

Oh,  anything.    The  days  are  past  when  Fanny, 
That  I  might  learn,  learnt  history  by  heart. 
And,  later,  books  were  handed  me  in  secret. 

Prokesch. 
The  good  Archduchess — ? 

The  Duke. 

Every  day  a  book. 
Locked  safe  all  night  I  read  it.    I  was  drunk ! 
When  it  was  finished,  to  conceal  my  crime, 
I  tossed  it  on  the  tester's  canopy, 
And  there  the  heap  grew,  hidden  in  the  darkness ; 
I  slept  beneath  a  dome  of  history. 
All  day  the  heap  lay  quiet,  but  at  night, 
When  I  was  sleeping,  it  began  to  stir, 
And  from  the  pages  clamorous  with  battles, 
The  battles  issued,  stretching  torpid  wings ; 
And  laurels  showered  upon  my  slumbering  eyes. 
Austerlitz  gleamed  among  my  curtains,  Jena 
Glowed  in  the  gilded  tassels  holding  them 
And  on  a  sudden  lapsed  into  my  dream. 
Till  once,  when  Metternich  was  gravely  telling 
His  version  of  my  father's  history, 
Down  comes  my  canopy  crushed  by  the  glory ; 
A  hundred  volumes  with  their  fluttering  pages 
Shouting  one  name ! 

Prokesch. 

Metternich  started? 

The   Duke. 

No. 
He  smiled  benignantly,  and  said,  "  My  Lord, 
Why  keep  your  library  so  out  of  reach  ?  " 
And  since  that  day  I've  read  whate'er  I  choose. 

[92] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Prokesch. 
Even  "  Le  Fils  de  I'homme?  " 

The   Duke. 

Yes. 


1 


Prokesch 


Hateful  book  I 


The   Duke. 
Yes ;  but  it's  French  and  blinded  by  its  hate. 
It  says  they're  poisoning  me ;  hints  at  Locusta 
Who  poisoned  Claudius.    If  thy  Prince  is  dying, 
Wherefore,  O  France,  belittle  his  disease? 
It  is  no  poisoned  cup  of  melodrama 
That  kills  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt !    'Tis  his  soul ! 

Prokesch. 
My  Lord — I 

The   Duke. 
It  is  my  soul !  it  is  my  name ! 
That  mighty  name,  which  throbs  with  guns  and  bells, 
Clashes  and  thunders,  ceaselessly  reproaches 
Against  my  languor  with  its  bells  and  guns ! 
Silence  your  tocsins  and  your  salvos!    Poison? 
What  need  of  poison  in  the  prison-house? 
I  yearn  to  broaden  historj' ! — I  am 
A  pallid  visage  watching  at  a  window. 
If  I  could  only  rid  myself  of  doubt! 
You  know  me  well !  what  do  you  think  of  me  ? 
Suppose  I  were  what  people  say  we  are 
And  what  we  often  are,  we  great  men's  sons ! 
Metternich  feeds  this  doubt  with  frequent  hints: 
He's  right ;  it  is  his  duty  as  an  Austrian. 
I  shiver  when  he  opes  the  bonbonniere 
They  call  his  wit,  to  find  some  honeyed  venom. 
You !  tell  me  honestly  what  is  my  worth  ? 
You  know  me ;  can  I  be  an  Emperor  ? 

[93] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

From  this  pale  brow  may  God  withhold  the  crown 
Unless  its  pallor's  that  of  Bonaparte ! 

Prokesch. 
Prince — ! 

The   Duke. 
Answer  me!    Must  I  despise  myself?  *** 
Speak  out !    What  am  I  ?    Are  my  wits  too  dull, 
And  are  my  wrists  too  feeble  for  the  sceptre? 
What  do  you  think  of  me  ? 

Prokesch. 

Prince,  if  all  Princes 
Struggled  with  half  these  torments,  doubts,  and  fears 
There  would  be  none  but  admirable  kings. 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E. 
I  thank  you,  Prokesch.    Ah !  that  word  consoles  me. 
To  work,  my  friend ! 

[A  Lackey  brings  in  a  tray  full  of  letters,  places 
them  on  the  table,  and  goes  out.] 

Prokesch. 

Your  mail  has  just  arrived. 
A  load  of  letters. 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E . 
Yes;    from  women.    These 
Reach  me  unopened. 

Prokesch. 

What  successes! 

The   Duke. 

Yes; 
That's  what  it  is  to  wear  the  fatal  halo. 

[He  opens  one  letter  after  another;   reads  the  be- 
ginning and  tears  them  up.] 
"  I  saw  you  in  your  box  last  night,  how  pale — !  " 

[94] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Destroyed !     "  Oh,  that  white  brow  !  "     Destroyed ! 

"  My  Prince, 
I  saw  you  riding  in  the  Prater  yesterday — " 
Destroyed ! 

Prokesch. 
What,  all? 

The   Duke. 

"  Your  youth — "     The  Canoness. 
Destroyed ! 

[The  door  opens  gently  and  Theresa  comes  in.] 

Theresa. 
Forgive  me. 

The   Duke. 

Little  Brooklet.    You? 

Theresa. 
Why  do  you  always  call  me  that? 

The    Duke. 

'Tis  sweet, 
'Tis  pure.    It  fits  you. 

Theresa. 

Prince,  I  go  to  Parma 
To-morrow  with  your  mother. 

T  H  E    D  u  k  E  . 

I  am  sorry. 

Theresa. 
Parma — 

The   Duke. 

The  land  of  violets. 

Theresa. 

Ah,  yes! 

The   Duke. 

And  if  my  mother  knows  not  what  they  stand  for 
Tell  her. 

[95] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Theresa. 
Farewell,  my  Lord. 

The   Duke. 

Go,  little  Brooklet, 
Go  on  your  innocent  course. 

Theresa. 

Why  "Little  Brooklet"? 

T  H  E     D  U  K  E. 

Because  the  slumbering  depths  within  your  eyes. 
The  murmur  of  your,  voice,  so  oft  refreshed  me. 

Theresa. 
You've  nothing  more  to  say  ? 

The   Duke. 

No,  nothing  more. 

Theresa. 
Good-bye,  my  Lord. 
^  [She  goes.] 

The   Duke. 
Destroyed ! 

Prokesch. 

Ah!     I  perceive! 

The    Duke. 
She  loves  me — and  perhaps — but  I  must  deal 
In  history  and  not  romances!    Come! 
To  work,  my  friend !    We  will  resume  our  tactics. 

Prokesch. 
ril  plan  an  action:  you  shall  criticise  it. 

The   Duke. 
First  give  me  yonder  box  upon  the  couch. 
The  wooden  box  with  all  my  wooden  soldiers, 
ril  work  the  problem  much  more  easily 
Upon  our  little  military  chess-board. 

[96J 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Prokesch. 
[After  giving  the  box  to  the  Duke.] 
You  have  to  prove  my  plan  is  hazardous. 

The  Duke. 
[Putting  his  hand  on  the  box.] 
These  are  the  soldiers  of  Napoleon's  son! 

Prokesch. 
Prince ! 

The  Duke. 

I'm  surrounded  with  such  loving  care, 
They  even  paint  my  soldiers — take  them  out — 
They  even  paint  my  wooden  soldiers  Austrian ! 
Well !  hand  me  one.    We  will  deploy  our  left. 

[He  takes  the  soldier  Prokesch  hands  him,  and 
starts  on  seeing  it.] 

Prokesch. 
What  is't? 

The   Duke. 
One  of  my  father's  Grenadiers! 
[Prokesch  hands  him  another.] 
A  Cuirassier! 

[He  takes  others  out  of  the  box.] 

Light  Infantry  !    A  scout ! 
They're    all    become    good    Frenchmen !      Someone's 

painted 
Each  of  these  little  wooden  combatants ! 

[He  takes  them  all  out.  ] 
They're  French!    French!    French! 

Prokesch. 

What  miracle  is  this? 

The   Duke. 
I  tell  you,  someone's  carved  and  painted  them! 

Prokesch. 
Who? 

[97] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   DuKEi* 
And  the  artist  was  a  soldifer  I 


Prokesch. 


Why 


? 


The   Duke. 
Each  coat  of  regal  blue  has  seven  buttons. 
The  collars  are  correct,  the  linings  faithful, 
The  tunics,  brandenburghs,  and  forage-caps, 
All's  there !    The  painter  never  had  to  pause 
To  get  the  edgings  and  the  facings  right ! 
The  lace  is  white,  the  flaps  are  triple-pointed  !— 
Oh,  friend,  whoe'er  you  are,  with  folded  hands 
I  thank  you,  nameless  soldier  of  my  father ! 
I  know  not  how  you  worked,  nor  whence  you  came, 
How  you  found  means,  here,  in  our  dismal  gaol, 
To  paint  these  little  mannikins  for  me. 
Who  is  the  hero,  little  wooden  army — 
Only  a  hero  would  have  been  so  childish — 
Who  is  the  hero  who  equipped  you  thus 
That  now  you  smile  at  me  from  all  your  trappings? 
Whose  was  the  loving,  microscopic  brush 
Which  gave  each  tiny  face  its  grim  mustache, 
Stamped  cannon  cross-wise  on  each  pouch,  and  gave 
Each  officer  his  bugle  or  grenade  ? 
Take  them  all  out !    The  table's  covered  with  them. 
Here  are  the  skirmishers,  the  fugle-men, 
The  Infantry  with  shoulder-straps  of  green. 
Take  them  all  out!    They're  little  conquerors! 
Oh,  Prokesch,  look !    locked  in  that  little  box 
Lay  sleeping  all  the  glorious  Grande  Armee! 
Here  are  the  Mamelukes — I  recognize 
The  crimson  breast-piece  of  the  Polish  Lancers. 
Here  are  the  Sappers  with  their  purple  breeches, 
And  here  at  last,  with  different  colored  leggings, 
The  Grenadiers  of  the  line  with  waving  plum&i 

[98] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Who  marched  into  the  battle  with  white  gaiters ; 
The  Conscripts  here,  with  green  and  pear-shaped  tufts, 
Who  marched  to  battle  with  their  gaiters  black. 
Like  a  poor  prisoner,  who  falls  a-dreaming 
Of  vasA  and  murmuring  forests,  with  a  tree 
Fashioned  of  shavings,  taken  from  a  doll's  house, 
I  build  my  Father's  Epic  with  these  soldiers. 

[He  moves  away  from  the  table.] 
Why,  yes,  from  here  I  cannot  see  at  all 
The  little  rounds  of  wood  that  keep  them  upright ! 
This  army,  Prokesch,  when  you  move  away 
'Tis  but  the  distance  makes  it  look  so  small ! 

[He  comes  back  quickly.] 
Place  them  in  line  for  Wagram  and  for  Eylau  ! 
This  naked  yatagan  shall  be  the  water — 

[He  takes  a  szvord  from  the  panoply.] 
It  is  the  Danube. 

[He  arranges  the  soldiers.] 

Essling!     Yonder's  Aspern. 
Throw  out  a  paper  bridge  across  the  steel. 
Pass  me  a  mounted  Grenadier  or  two. 

Prokesch. 
We  want  a  little  hillock. 

The  Duke. 
[Handing  him  a  book.] 

The  "  Memorials." 
Here  stands  Saint  Cyr,  here  Molitor  of  Bellegarde 
And  on  the  bridge — 

Metternich.  I 

[Who  has  come  in  unperceized  and  is  standing  behind 
him.] 

And  on  the  bridge  ? 

The  Duke. 

The  Guards. 

[99] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
So  all  the  army's  French  to-day,  it  seems ! 
Where  are  the  Austrians  ? 

The   Duke. 

They've  run  away. 

Metternich. 
Tut,  tut — who  daubed  them  over  for  you  ? 

The   Duke. 

No  one. 
Metternich. 
'Twas  you.    That's  how  you  spoil  the  toys  we  give  you. 

The  Duke. 
Sir—! 

[Metternich  rings — a  Lackey  appears.] 

Metternich. 
[To  the  Lackey.] 

Take  these  soldiers ;  throw  them  all  away. 
[To  the  Duke.] 
I'll  send  you  new  ones. 

The   Duke. 

I'll  not  have  your  new  ones! 
If  I'm  a  child,  my  toys  shall  be  a  giant's ! 

Metternich. 
What  gadfly — what  Imperial  bee  has  stung  you? 

The   Duke. 
As  irony  is  little  to  my  liking — 

The   Lackey. 

[Aside  to  the  Duke.] 

Silence,  my  Lord !    I'll  paint  'em  over  again. 

Metternich. 
Well,  Highness? 

[100] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Nothing.    Just  a  fit  of  temper. 
Forgive  me. 
[Aside.] 

I've  a  friend;   I  can  be  patient. 

Metternich. 
I  came  to  bring  your  friend — 

The   Duke. 

My  friend? 


Marmont. 


Metternich 


The   Duke 

Oh!   Marmont! 


Yes;  Marshal 


Metternich. 
[With  a  look  at  Prokesch.] 

He's  among  the  few 
I  like  to  see  about  you — 

Prokes  ch . 
[Mutters.] 

I  should  hope  so! 

Metternich. 
He's  here. 

The   Duke. 
.Why,  let  him  come ! 
[Metternich  goes  out.    The  Duke  throws  him- 
self wildly  on  the  couch.] 

My  father!     Glory  I 
The  Eagles !    The  Imperial  throne !    The  purple  ! 

[Suddenly  calm,  he  offers  his  hand  to  Marmont, 
zi'ho  enters  zvith  Metternich.] 
Ah,  Marshal  Marmont !    How  are  you  to-day  ? 

[lOl] 


f 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

M  AR  M  ONT. 

My  Lord—  I 

Metternich. 
[Anxious  to  get  Prokesch  away.] 

Come,  Prokesch,  come  and  see  how  well 
The  Duke  is  lodged. 

[He  takes  him  by  the  arm  and  leads  him  off.] 

The   Duke. 
[After  a  pause.] 

You've  told  me  all  you  know 
About  my  Father's  youth  ? 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T . 
I  have. 

The   Duke. 

_,     ,  We'll  sum  it  up. 

You  d  call  him  great  ? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

Oh,  very. 

The   Duke. 

But  'twas  you 
Who  helped — 

M  AR  M  o  N  T. 

I  helped  him  to  avoid — 

The   Duke. 

Disaster? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

Well,  he  believed  so  stoutly — 

The   Duke. 

In  his  star? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

We  perfectly  agree  in  our  conclusions. 

The   Duke. 
And  I  suppose  he  was,  as  we  were  saying — 

[  102] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

He  was  a  General  of  some  importance ; 
Yet  it  were  hardly  fair  to  call  him — 

The    Duke. 

Wretch ! 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

What? 

The   Duke. 
Now  I've  learnt  whatever  you  could  teach  me, 
Whatever  memories  of  him  you  had, 
All  that,  in  spite  of  you,  was  splendid  in  you. 
I  cast  you  off :   a  useless  sponge ! 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T  . 

My  Lord ! 
The    Duke. 
Duke  of  Ragusa,  you  betrayed  him!     You! 
Ah,  yes,  I  know,  when  you  beheld  your  comrade 
Climbing  the  throne  you  all  said,  "  Why  not  I?  " 
But  you,  whom  even  in  the  ranks  he  loved, 
And  loved  so  well  his  men  grew  discontented, 
Created  Marshal  at  the  age  of  thirty — 

M  A  R  M  0  N  T  . 

No;  thirty-five. 

The   Duke. 

You,  traitor  of  Essonnes, 
The  mob  has  found  new  uses  for  your  name 
And  coined  a  verb  "  Ragnser,"  to  betray ! 
Why  do  you  stand  there  silent  ?    Answer  me. 
'Tis  not  alone  Prince  Francis  Charles,  it  is 
Napoleon  the  Second  speaking  to  you. 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T . 
[Listening.] 
Tliey  come — Prince  Metternich — I  know  his  voice. 

[   103] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Well !  you  know  what  to  do.    Betray  us  twice ! 

Metternich. 
[Entering  with  Prokesch.] 
Don't  interrupt  your  chat.    I'm  taking  Prokesch 
Across  the  park  to  see  the  Roman  ruins 
Where  I  propose  to  give  a  ball.    I  am 
The  last  survivor  of  a  crumbling  world. 
I  like  the  idea  of  dancing  over  ruins. 
Good-night. 

[He  goes  out  with  Prokesch.] 

M  AR  M  o  N  T. 

My  Lord,  you  see  I  held  my  peace. 

The   Duke. 
It  only  needed  that  you  should  raguse. 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T  . 
Oh,  conjugate  the  verb!    I'll  take  a  seat. 

The   Duke. 
What! 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T. 

I  will  let  you  conjugate  the  verb 
Because  you  were  magnificent  just  now. 

The   Duke. 

Sir! 

M  AR  M  O  N  T. 

I  have  spoken  evil  of  your  Father 
These  fifteen  years.    I  do  so  still ;   'tis  true. 
Can  you  not  guess  I  seek  to  excuse  myself? 
I  never  saw  your  Father  after  Elba — 
If  I  had  seen  him  I  should  have  returned. 
Others  betrayed  him,  thinking  to  save  France; 
But  these  beheld  his  face  again,  and  fell 
Under  the  spell,  as  I  have  fallen  to-night 

[104] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Why,  sir? 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T  . 
I  also  have  beheld  his  face. 

The   Duke. 
How? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

In  that  frown,  and  in  that  haughty  gesture; 
The  sparTifing  eye!    Insult  me.    I  remain. 

The    Duke. 
Almost  you  have  atoned  if  that  be  true, 
Saved  me  from  self-distrust  which  these  ex^Joit. 
What?    With  my  gloomy  brow  and  narrow  chest — ? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

I  have  beheld  him  ! 

The   Duke. 

Dare  I  hope  again? 
Dare  I  forgive  you?    Why  did  you  betray  him? 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T . 
My  Lord — ! 

The    Duke. 

Why?    You — and  others? 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T . 

We  were  weary. 
Can  you  not  understand  ?    No  peace  in  Europe. 
It's  well  to  conquer,  but  one  wants  to  live ! 
Berlin,  Vienna,  never,  never  Paris ! 
Beginning  and  beginning  and  beginning, 
Again,  and  yet  again  as  in  a  nightmare; 
Forever  and  forever  in  the  saddle 
Till  we  were  sick  of  it ! 

The    Lackey. 
[Hat'ing  taken  out  the  wooden  soldiers  and  come  back. 

What  about  us? 

[105] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke   and   M  a  r  m  o  n  t  . 
Eh? 

The   Lackey. 

Us,  the  men,  the  mean,  the  rank  and  file? 
Us,  tramping  broken,  wounded,  muddy,  dying. 
Having  no  hope  of  duchies  or  endowments, 
Marching  along  and  never  getting  further, 
Too  simple  and  too  ignorant  to  covet 
The  famous  marshal's  baton  in  our  knapsacks? 
What  about  us,  who  marched  through  every  weather, 
Sweating  but  fearless,  shivering  without  trembling, 
Kept  on  our  feet  by  trumpet-calls,  by  fever. 
And  by  the  songs  we  sang  through  conquered  coun- 
tries ? 
Us  upon  whom  for  seventeen  years — just  think ! — 
The  knapsack,  sabre,  turn-screw,  flint,  and  gun, 
Beside  the  burden  of  an  empty  belly, 
Made  the  sweet  weight  of  five  and  fifty  pounds? 
Us,  who  wore  bearskins  in  the  burning  tropics 
And  marched  bareheaded  through  the  snows  of  Russia, 
Who  trotted  casually  from  Spain  to  Austria? 
Us  who,  to  free  our  travel-weary  legs, 
Like  carrots  from  the  slough  of  miry  roads. 
Often  with  both  hands  had  to  lug  them  out  ? 
Us,  who,  not  having  jujubes  for  our  coughs. 
Took  day-long  foot-baths  in  the  freezing  Danube? 
Who  just  had  leisure  when  some  officer 
Came  riding  up,  and  gayly  cried  "  To  arms ! 
The  enemy  is  on  us !    Drive  him  back !  " 
To  eat  a  slice  of  rook — and  raw  at  that. 
Or  quickly  mix  a  delicate  ice-cream 
With  melted  snow  and  a  dead  horse's  blood  ? 
Us,  who — 

The   Duke. 
At  last ! 

[io6] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Lackey. 

At  night  had  little  fear 
Of  bullets,  but  a  holy  dread  of  waking 
Cannibals;  us — 

The   Duke. 
At  last— ! 

The    Lackey. 

Who  marched  and  fought 
Fasting,  and  only  stopped — 

The   Duke. 

At  last  I  see  one! 

The   Lackey. 
To  fight — and  then  stopped  fighting,  four  to  one, 
Only  to  march  ;  and  stopped  again  to  fight ! 
Marching  and  fighting,  naked,  starved,  but  merry — 
Don't  you  suppose  we,  too,  were  sick  of  it? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

But— 

The   Lackey. 
Though  we  owed  him  precious  little  thanks, 
Nevertheless  'twas  we  whose  hearts  were  true, 
While  you  were  ambling  at  the  King's  right  hand. 
In  short,  your  Highness,  in  the  great  canteen, 
Where  souls  are  fed  on  glory,  he  may  find 

[Pointing  to  Marmont.] 
His  laurels  are  not  worth  our  small  potatoes. 

Marmont. 
Who  is  this  Lackey  with  the  veteran's  growl? 

The   Lackey. 
John  Seraph  Peter  Flambeau,  called  Flambart— 
"  The  glowing  coal  "—ex-sergeant  grenadier. 
Mamma  from  Picardy ;   Papa  a  Breton. 
Joined  at  fourteen,  two  Germinal,  year  Three. 
Baptised,  Marengo;    got  my  corporal's  stripes 

[  107] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  fifteenth  Fructidor,  year  Twelve.     Silk  hose 
And  sergeant's  cane,  steeped  in  my  tears  of  joy. 
July  fourteenth,  year  Eighteen  hundred  and  nine, 
At  Schonbrunn,  for  the  Guards  were  here  to  serve 
The  sacred  person  of  your  Majesty. 
Sixteen  years'  service,  seen  sixteen  campaigns, 
Fought  Austerlitz,  fought  Eyiau,  Somo-Siera, 
Eckmiihl,  Essling,  Wagram,  Smolensk,  and  so  forth. 
Thirty-two  feats  of  arms,  a  lot  of  wounds, 
And  only  fought  for  glory  and  dry  bread. 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T  . 
Surely  you  will  not  listen  to  him  thus  ? 

The    Duke. 
No,  sir,  I  will  not  listen  thus,  but  standing!  -» 

M  AR  M  O  N  T. 

My  Lord ! 

The   Duke. 

For  in  the  volume  whose  sublime  .^ 
Chapters  are  headed  with  proud  capitals 
You  are  the  titles  and  you  catch  the  eye ; 
But  these — these  are  the  thousand  little  letteit — 
You're  nought,  without  the  black  and  humble  army 
That  goes  to  make  a  page  of  history. 
Oh,  my  brave  Flambeau,  painter  of  my  soldiers, 
To  think  while  you  were  near  me  all  this  month, 
I  only  looked  upon  you  as  a  spy. 

Flambeau. 
Oh,  our  acquaintance  dates  much  further  back  ! 

The   Duke. 
How  so? 

Flambeau. 
Can't  you  recall  me? 

The   Duke, 

Not  at  all.  " 
[I08] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

One  Thursday  in  the  garden  of  Saint  Cloud 

Marshal  Duroc  stood  with  a  maid-in-waiting, 

Watching  your  Highness  at  his  nurse's  breast — 

Its  whiteness,  I  remember,  startled  me. 

Marshal  Duroc  exclaimed,  "  Come  here !  "     I  came. 

But  there  were  lots  of  things  to  make  me  nervous : 

The  Imperial  child,  the  gorgeous  rosy  sleeves 

The  Maid  of  honor  wore,  Duroc,  the  breast — 

In  short,  the  tuft  was  shivering  on  my  bearskin ; 

So  much  so  that  your  Highness  noticed  it. 

You  gazed  upon  it  pensively :  what  was  it  ? 

And  while  you  hailed  it  with  a  milky  laugh 

You  seemed  uncertain  which  to  admire  the  more 

About  this  moving  scarlet  miracle: 

Its  motion,  or  the  fact  that  it  was  scarlet. 

Suddenly,  while  I  stooped,  your  little  hands 

Began  to  pull  the  precious  tuft  about. 

Seeing  my  plight,  the  Marshal  cried  severely, 

"  Don't  interfere  " — I  didn't  interfere ; 

But  having  sunk  upon  my  knees  I  heard 

The  nurse,  the  marshal,  and  the  lady  laughing. 

And  when  I  rose  the  grass  was  strewn  with  red : 

As  for  my  tuft,  that  was  a  beardless  wire. 

"  I'll  sign  an  order,"  said  Duroc,  "  for  two." 

Back  to  my  quarters  then  I  strutted  radiant ; 

"  You  there  !  hulloa!  "  exclaimed  the  Adjutant, 

"  Who's  plucked  you?  "    And  I  cried:   "  The  King  of 

Rome !  " 
And  that  is  how  one  Thursday  morn  I  met 
Your  Majesty.    Your  Highness  has  developed. 

The   Duke. 
No,  not  developed :  that  is  why  I  grieve.  •*>*. 
My  "  Majesty  "  has  shrivelled  to  my  "  Highness." 

f  109] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

M  AR  M  O  N  T. 

[To  Flambeau.] 

But  since  the  Empire  fell,  what  have  you  done? 

Flambeau. 

I  think  Fve  acted  like  a  decent  beggar. 

I  know  Fournier  and  Solignac.     In  May 

Eighteen-sixteen  Didier  and  Sarloveze 

Conspire  and  fail.    I  see  the  child  Miard 

Perish,  and  David  the  old  man,  and  weep; 

They'd  have  beheaded  me,  but  I  am  missing. 

Good.    I  come  back  to  Paris  with  an  alias; 

I  smash  a  footstool  on  a  royal  guard 

Because  he'd  trodden  on  my  favorite  corn. 

I  take  the  chair  at  noisy  drinking  bouts, 

Spend  thirty  pence  a  month.    I  nurse  a  hope 

That  in  the  Var  that  Other  still  may  land. 

I  swagger  in  a  Bonapartist  hat 

And  call  whoever  stares  at  me  a  vampire. 

I  fight  some  thirty  duels.     I  conspire 

At  Beziers;    fail.     They'd  have  beheaded  me, 

But  I  am  missing.     Good.     I  join  at  once 

The  plot  at  Lyons.    All  are  seized.     I  fly. 

They'd  have  beheaded  me,  but  I  am  missing. 

So  I  come  back  to  Paris,  where,  by  chance, 

I  find  myself  mixed  up  in  the  Bazaar  plot. 

Lefevre-Desnouettes  is  in  America. 

I  join  him  there.     "  What's  up,  my  General  ?  " 

Says  I.     Says  he,  "  Come  back."     We  start ;    we're 

wrecked. 
My  General's  drowned,  but  I  know  how  to  swim; 
And  so  I  swim,  bewailing  Desnouettes. 
Good.    Very  good.    Sun — azure  waves — and  sea-mews. 
A  ship.    They  fish  me  up.     I  land  in  time 
To  be  among  the  plotters  of  Saumur. 
We  fail  again.    They'd  have  beheaded  me^.__ 

[no] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

But  I  am  missing.     So  I  make  for  Greece, 

To  rub  the  rust  off,  thrashing  dirty  Turks, 

One  morning  in  July  I'm  back  in  France. 

I  see  them  heaping  paving  stones.     I  help. 

I  fight.     At  night  the  tricolor  is  hoisted, 

Instead  of  the  white  banner  of  the  King, 

But  as  I  think  there  still  is  something  lacking 

To  crown  the  point  of  that  disloyal  staff ; 

You  know — the  golden  thing  that  beats  its  wings. 

I  leave,  to  plot  in  the  Romagna.    Fail. 

A  relative  of  yours — 

The  Duke. 
Named  ? 

Flambeau. 

Camerata — 
Makes  me  her  fencing  master — 

The   Duke. 

Ah! 

Flambeau. 

In  Tuscany, 

So  we  conspire  with  singlestick  and  rapier. 

Next  there's  a  post  of  danger  vacant  here; 

They  give  me  forged  credentials ;   here  I  am. 

I'm  here ;  but  every  day  I  see  the  Countess, 

For  I  have  found  the  cave  your  Highness  dug 

With  your  preceptor  Colin  in  the  garden 

To  play  at  little  Robinson.     All  right ! 

I  hide  in  it.    I  find  it  has  two  openings : 

This  in  an  ant-heap;   that,  a  bed  of  nettles. 

I  wait.     Your  cousin  brings  her  sketch-book,  and 

There  in  the  shadow  of  the  Roman  thingummies. 

She  on  her  camp-stool,  I  amid  the  mud. 

She  looking  like  an  English  tourist  sketching, 

I  whispering  from  my  cavern  like  a  prompter, 

We  plan  the  means  to  make  you  Emperor. 

[Ill] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Duke. 
And  for  such  loyalty,  so  long  maintained, 
What  do  you  ask  of  me  ?  , 

Flambeau. 

Just  pull  my  ear. 

The   Duke. 

What? 

Flambeau. 
As  your  Father  used  to  when  we'd  pleased  him. 

The   Duke. 
ButI— 

Flambeau. 
Fm  waiting.    Come,    The  thumb  and  index. 
[The  Duke  pulls  his  ear.] 
That's  not  the  way  to  pull  an  ear,  my  Lord ! 
You  don't  know  how :  you're  much  too  gentlemanly. 

The   Duke. 
Ah,  do  you  think  so? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

Clumsy  thing  to  say! 

Flambeau. 
Well,  in  a  French  Prince  that's  but  half  a  fault. 

The   Duke. 
But  can  you  see  Fm  French  in  these  surroundings? 

Flambeau. 
Yes,  you  don't  match.    It's  rich  ;  it's  heavy. 

M  a  R  M  o  N  T . 

What! 
Can  you  see  that  ? 

Flambeau. 

My  brother's  an  upholsterer. 
He  works  in  Paris  for  Fontaine  and  Percier — 

[112] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

They  try  to  imitate  us  here ;   but,  Lord ! 
They've  got  a  curious  kind  of  Louis-Quinze! 
I'm  not  an  expert,  but  I've  got  an  eye. 

[He  lifts  up  a  chair.] 
Just  look  how  finnicking  this  wood-work  is. 

[He  puts  it  down  and  looks  at  it.] 
But  then  the  tapestry  !    What  taste  !   what  mystery ! 
It  sings.     It  laughs.     It  crushes  all  the  room. 
Why?    Don't  you  know  ?    Why,  these  are  ^Gobelins! 
How  plain  it  is  that  cunning  craftsmen  made  them. 
This  taste,  this  elegance  swears  with  the  rest — 
And  you  my  Lord,  were  also  made  in  France ! 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  . 

He  must  go  back. 

F  L  A  M  B  E  .^  U  . 

And  on  the  Gross  of  Honor 
Once  more  engrave  a  little  Emperor. 

The    Duke. 
Whom  have  they  put  there  now? 

Flambeau. 

Henry  the  Fourth- 
Well,  damn  it  all,  it  had  to  be  a  fighter! 
But,  ba^ta!    How  Napoleon  must  laugh 
To  wear  King  Henr>''s  mask  upon  his  face ! 
Haven't  you  ever  seen  the  cross? 

The   Duke. 

In  shops. 

Flambeau. 
My  Lord,  it  must  be  seen  upon  a  breast, 
Here  on  the  cloth,  a  gout  of  ardent  blood, 
Which  fell,  and  falling  turned  to  burnished  gold 
And  to  enamel  with  an  edge  of  green ; 
'Twas  like  a  jewel  pouring  from  a  wound. 

■  [113] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
It  must  have  looked  magnificent,  my  friend. 
Here  on  your  bosom. 

Flambeau. 

I? — I  never  had  it. 

The   Duke. 

What!    After  all  your  modest  heroism? 

Flambeau. 
One  had  to  do  far  greater  deeds  to  win  it. 

The   Duke. 
You  made  no  claim  ? 

Flambeau. 

The  Little  Corporal 
Didn't  bestow  it;   so  I  hadn't  earned  it.  \ 

The   Duke. 
Then  I,  who  have  no  power,  no  throne,  no  title, 
I,  who  am  but  a  memory  in  a  phantom. 
That  Duke  of  Reichstadt  who  with  helpless  grief 
Can  only  wander  under  Austrian  trees, 
Carving  an  N  upon  their  mossy  trunks, 
Wayfarer,  only  noticed  when  I  cough ; 
Who  have  no  longer  even  the  little  piece 
Of  watered  silk  so  scarlet  in  my  cradle ; 
I,  on  whose  woes  they  vainly  lavish  stars. 
Who  only  wear  two  crosses,  not  the  One! 
I,  exiled,  prisoner,  sick,  who  may  not  ride 
Along  the  front  of  pompous  regiments 
Scattering  stars  among  my  heroes ;   yet 
I  hope — I  think — the  son  of  such  a  father — 
Into  whose  hands  a  firmament  was  given — 
I  think,  in  spite  of  shadows  and  dead  days, 
A  little  of  the  star  clings  to  my  fingers : — 
John  Seraph  Peter.  Flambeau,  I  adorn  you ! 

[114] 


L  ^  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
You! 

The   Duke. 
Oh,  this  ribbon  is  not  real. 

Flambeau. 

The  real 
Is  that  we  weep  in  taking.    I  have  wept. 

M  A  R  M  o  N  T. 
Besides,  it  must  be  legalized  in  Paris. 

The   Duke. 
But  how  to  get  to  Paris  ? 

Flambeau. 

Pack  your  trunk. 

The   Duke. 
Alas! 

Flambeau. 
No  more  "  Alas."    To-day's  the  Ninth, 
And  if  you'd  like  to  be  on  the  Pont-Neuf 
The  Thirtieth — you'll  be  there  if  you  like — 
Come  to  the  ball  to-morrow  given  by  Xcpomuk. 

The   Duke   and   Marmont. 
By  whom? 

Flambeau. 
Prince  Metternich  (Clement  Lothair 
Wenceslas  Nepomuk).     Come.     No  more  "  Alas ! 

Marmont. 
You  utter  dangerous  secrets  in  my  presence  I 

Flambeau. 
You'll  not  betray  a  plot  injvhich  you  share. 

The   Duke. 
Not  Marmont! 

[115] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

M  AR  M  O  N  T. 

Yes,  I'm  with  you. 
[To  Flambeau.] 

All  the  same 
You  didn't  use  much  flattery  to  win  me; 
You  gave  me  quite  a  warm  reception. 

Flambeau. 

Yes; 
And  won  a  warm  reception  for  myself. 

M  AR  M  o  N  T. 

Very  imprudent. 

Flambeau. 
True,  but  then  my  failing 
Is  ever  overdoing  things  a  little. 
I  always  add  a  trifle  to  my  orders 
And  wear  a  rose-bud  when  I  go  to  battle : 
My  little  joke. 

M  a  R  M  O  N  T  . 

So  if  the  Camerata 
Cares  to  employ  me — 

The   Duke. 

No!   not  Marmont! 

Flambeau. 

Pooh  I 
Let  him  redeem  himself  I 

The   Duke. 

No! 

Marmont. 

I  have  lists 
Carefully  made,  of  all  the  malcontents ; 
Maison,  the  French  Ambassador,  is  my  friend. 

Flambeau. 
Oh,  he  can  serve  us. 

[ii6] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

T  H  E     D  U  K  E. 

Compromises !     No ! 
I'll  not  let  Marmont  consecrate  himself ! 

M  AR  M  o  N  T. 
When  you  are  crowned,  my  Lord,  I  will  obey  you. 
Meanwhile  I'll  go  at  once  to  General  Maison. 

[Marmont  goes  out.]  lO 

Flambeau. 
That  venerable  rascal's  in  the  right. 

The    Duke. 
So  be  it,  then!   I'll  come.    But  where's  the  proof 
That  France  still  feels  herself  my  Father's  widow? 
Oh,  Flambeau,  time  has  passed ;  the  ancient  love 
These  worthy  people  bore  us  must  have  died. 

Flambeau, 
Their  love  of  you,  my  Lord  ?    Why  that's  immortal ! 
\He  takes  from  about  his  person  the  various  ar- 
ticles mentioned  in  the  following  scene. \ 

The    Duke. 
Why,  Flambeau,  what  is  that  ? 

Flambeau. 

A  pair  of  braces. 

The   Duke. 
Have  you  gone  mad? 

Flambeau. 

Just  look  and  see  what's  on  'em ! 

The   Duke. 


My  portrait 


Flambeau. 
Worn  by  quite  a  decent  class. 

The   Duke. 
But  Flambeau — 

r  117 1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
Will  you  take  a  pinch  of  snuff? 

The   Duke. 
I— 

Flambeau, 
On  the  box  a  little  curly  head. 

The   Duke. 
'Tis  I ! 

Flambeau. 
And  what  about  this  handkerchief? 
Eh !  Not  so  bad,  the  little  King  of  Rome  ? 

The   Duke. 
But— 

Flambeau. 

Colored  print  to  paste  upon  your  walls. 

The    Duke. 
Again !  on  horseback ! 

Flambeau. 

Yes,  and  caracolling. 
How  d'you  like  this  pipe  ? 

The   Duke. 

But  tell  me,  Flambeau — 

Flambeau. 
You  cannot  say  they  haven't  drawn  you  handsome ! 

The   Duke. 
I— 

Flambeau. 
A  cockade,  to  tease  the  government. 

The   Duke. 
What's  that? 

Flambeau. 
A  medal.    Trivial  fancy  goods. 
[Ii8] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 
Still  I? 

Flambeau. 
Still  you.    Look  here,  what  words  are  ground 
Upon  this  tumbler? 

The  Duke. 

"  Francis,  Duke  of  Reichstadt." 

Flambeau. 
Of  course  you  can't  get  on  without  a  plate — 

The  Duke. 
A  plate? 

Flambeau. 
A  knife,  a  napkin-ring,  an  egg-cup. 
They've  made  you  look  so  happy  on  the  egg-cup ! 
The  table's  laid,  my  Lord:   my  Lord  is  served! 

The  Duke. 
[With  increasing  emotion.] 
Flambeau — 

Flambeau. 
On  everything.     Here's  a  cravat 
In  which  you're  woven  riding  in  the  clouds ; 
And  playing  cards  of  which  you're  Ace  of  Spades— 

The  Duke. 
Flambeau ! 

Flambeau. 
And  Almanacs — 

The  Duke. 

Flambeau ! 

Flambeau. 

And  everything! 
The  Duke. 


Flambeau ! 


[119] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
What,  weeping?     Take  this  handkerchief 
And  dry  your  eyes  upon  the  King  of  Rome ! 

[He  kneels  by  the  Duke's  side  and  ivipes  his  eyes 
zvith  the  handkerchief.] 
I  bid  you  strike  the  iron  while  it's  hot: 
You've  got  the  people  and  you've  got  the  Marshals, 
The  King,  the  King  himself,  is  only  King 
On  one  condition :    that  he's  Bonapartist. 
Vainly  the  Gallic  cockerel  spreads  his  wings 
That,  from  a  distance,  he  may  seem  an  eagle. 
__We  Frenchmen  cannot  breathe  inglorious  air; 
The  crown  must  slip  from  off  a  pear-shaped  head. 
The  youth  of  France  will  rally  to  your  side 
Merrily  shouting  songs  of  Beranger — 
The  street  has  shuddered  and  the  pavement  trembled, 
And  Schonbrunn's  not  so  pretty  as  Versailles! 

The   Duke. 
I  will  accept. 

[Military  music  is  heard.] 
Ha! 

Flambeau. 

[At  the  zmndow.] 

In  the  Court  of  honor 

The  trumpets  of  the  Guard.    The  Emperor 
Is  coming  home. 

The    Duke. 
My  grandfather!    My  promise! 
[To  Flambeau.] 
No ;  before  accepting — 

Flambeau. 
Damn  it! 

The   Duke. 

Listen ! 

I  must  make  one  attempt  with  him ;  but  if 

[I20] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

When  you  are  here  on  guard  to-night,  you  see 
Something — that  you're  not  used  to  seeing  here — 
It  is  a  signal !    I  will  fly. 

Flambeau. 
Latude ! 
What  will  the  signal  be? 

The   Duke. 

You'll  see. 

Flambeau. 

But  if— 
[An  officer  of  the  Noble  Guard  enters.]  if 

The   Officer. 
My  Lord — 

Flambeau. 
[Taking  stock  of  him.] 

The  beggars !    Aren't  they  gorgeous  swells ! 

The   Duke. 

Well? 

The   Officer. 
As  the  Emperor  passed,  they  came  and  said, 
"  O  Sire,  this  is  the  one  day  in  the  week 
Whereon  your  Majesty  receives  his  subjects; 
Many  have  come  from  far — "    "  I'd  thought  of  it," 
Replied  the  Emperor,  smiling ;  "  and  I  hope 
To  see  them.    I'm  at  Schonbrunn  as  a  grandfather, 
I  shall  be  with  the  Duke  from  five  to  six : 
Let  all  my  children  be  beside  my  grandson." 
May  they  come  up? 

The  Duke. 

Yes !   open  all  the  doors ! 
[The  Officer  goes  out.] 

The  Duke. 

[To  Flambeau.]  .2. 

Now  quickly  make  a  bundle  of  these  treasures. 
I'll  look  at  them  at  leisure  in  my  room. 

[121] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
I  make  the  bundle  in  the  handkerchief. 
But  tell  me  what  the  signal  is  to  be. 

The    Duke. 
Oh,  never  fear !  you  will  not  fail  to  know  it. 
But — do  you  hear  them  ?    That's  the  Austrian  Hymn. 

Flambeau. 
My  word  !    It  isn't  worth  the  Marseillaise ! 

The   Duke. 

The  Marseillaise — well  ?  have  you  tied  the  ends  ? 
My  father  used  to  say  it  wore  mustachios. 

Flambeau. 
Their  blessed  national  hymn  has  scented  whiskers. 

The    Duke. 
It  wouldn't  be  bad  fun  to  enter  France, 
Thus,  with  my  bundle  on  my  back,  on  foot. 

Flambeau. 
How  cheerful  and  how  funny  you  can  be ! 
This  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen  you  so. 

The    Duke. 
What  ?    Rather  young  and  merry  ?    Thank  you,  Flam- 
beau. 

Curtain. 


[122] 


THE   THIRD   ACT 


L' 


Scene:   The  same  as  in  the  previous  act. 

A  miscellaneous  crozvd  of  men,  women  and  children  are 
discovered  on  the  rising  of  the  curtain.  They 
are  being  placed  in  order  by  an  Officer. 

The  Officer. 
INE  up.     Be  quiet.     Boy,  behave  yourself. 
The  Emperor  enters  here ;    so  leave  a  pas- 
sage. 
You,  giant  highlander,  don't  scrape  your  feet. 

A   Man. 
Will  he  pass  here? 

The   Officer. 

Yes ;  and  he'll  take  your  papers. 
Hold  your  petitions  so  that  he  can  see  them. 
No  tedious  twaddle — Ah  ! — and  you're  forbidden 
To  kneel  when  he  comes  in. 

A    WOM  A  N. 

Forbidden  or  not, 
That  won't  prevent  us — 

[The  Emperor  enters  quite  simply,  without  being 
announced.  All  the  people,  in  spite  of  the  warn- 
ing, fall  on  their  knees.] 

[123] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Emperor. 

Rise,  my  children,  rise. 
[He  passes  from  one  to   the  other,  taking  their 
papers.    To  a  Woman.] 
Your  pension's  doubled. 

The   Woman. 
Sire! 

The   Emperor. 
[To  a  Man.] 

What  ?    What  ?    A  team 

Of  oxen?    That's  expensive! — Granted. 

The    Man. 

Father ! 
The   Emperor. 

[Reading  another  paper.] 

Granted. 

A   Woman. 

Father  Franz — 

The   Emperor. 

What,  you  ?    All  well 
At  home? 

The   Woman. 

Oh,  so-so. 

The   Emperor. 

Well,  old  woman?    Well? 

The   Old   Woman. 
Why,  don't  you  see,  the  wind  has  killed  my  chickens. 

The   Emperor. 
Granted. — A  vocalist? 

TheVocalist. 
I  yodle. 

The   Em  peror. 

Come 
And  yodle  to  the  Court  at  Baden. 

[124] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Chamberlain. 

Name? 

The   Vocalist. 
Schnauser. 

The   Emperor. 
A  Highlander? 

The   Highlander. 
Out  yonder 
My  home  is,  on  the  mountains,  in  the  skies. 
I  want  to  be  a  cabman  in  Vienna. 

The   Emperor. 
Well,  so  you  shall. 

[Taking  another  paper.] 

A  wealthy  husbandman 
Begs  Franz  to  give  him  back  his  daughter's  love 
Which  a  Bohemian  glass-blower  has  stolen. 

[Handing  back  the  paper.] 
You'll  wed  your  child  to  her  Bohemian  lover. 

The   Husbandman. 
But— 

The    Emperor. 

I'll  endow  him. 

The   Chamberlain. 

Name? 

The   Husbandman. 

Johannes  Schmoll. 
I  kiss  your  hands. 

The   Emperor. 

[Taking  another  paper.] 

"  A  shepherd  of  the  Tyrol, 
A  friendless  orphan,  robbed  of  all  his  land, 
Driven  from  his  homestead  by  his  father's  foes. 
Yearns  for  his  native  woods  and  skies  " — how  touch- 
ing!— 
"  And  his  paternal  meadow."    'Tis  restored. 

[125] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Chamberlain. 
What  is  the  shepherd's  name,  who  asks  for  help? 

The    Shepherd. 
The  Duke  of  Reichstadt !    And  the  meadow's  France ! 

The   Emperor. 
[To  the  Petitioners.] 
Begone ! 

[All  go.] 

What's  this? 

The   Duke. 

It  seems  if  I  were  only 
A  mountain  shepherd  or  a  forester, 
With  nothing  to  attract  your  notice,  Sire, 
Save  a  cock's  feather  in  my  huntsman's  hat. 
You  would  have  drawn  me  to  your  melting  heart. 

The   Emperor. 
But  Franz — ! 

The   Duke. 

Ah,  now  I  know  why  all  your  subjects. 
All  those  who  are  unhappy,  call  themselves 
Your  sons  as  much  as  we;  but  is  it  just, 
Sire,  is  it  just,  that  I,  when  I'm  unhappy. 
Have  less  of  kinship  than  the  least  of  these  ? 

The   Emperor. 
But  why  just  now — for  I  must  scold  you,  sir — 
When  I  was  busy  with  these  wretched  people — 
Why  come  to  me  just  now,  and  not  in  private? 

The   Duke. 
I  wished  to  find  you  when  your  heart  was  open. 

The    Emperor. 
My  heart — my  heart! — You're  somewhat  over-bold! 

The   Duke. 
I  know  that  you  can  do  the  thing  I  ask, 
That  I  am  wretched  almost  past  endurance. 
And  that  you  are  my  Grandfather — that's  all. 

[126] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Emperor. 
But  there  is  Europe — England — above  all, 
There's  Metternich. 

The  Duke. 

You  are  my  Grandfather. 

The   Emperor. 
You  don't  know  half  the  difficulties. 

The  Duke. 

But 

I  am  the  grandson  of  your  Majesty. 

The    Emperor. 
But— 

The  Duke. 
Sire,  in  whom  alone  I  place  my  trust. 
Be  Grandfather  a  little  while! 

The    Emperor. 

But  I— 

The  Duke. 
Just  for  a  moment  drop  the  Emperor. 

The   Emperor. 
Ah,  what  a  coaxing  way  you  always  had. 

The  Duke. 
You  know  I  cannot  bear  you  when  you  look  — 
Like  the  great  portrait  hanging  in  the  throne-room, 
With  the  ermine  cloak  and  Golden  Fleece  upon  you ; 
But  here,  like  this,  I  like  you  very  much. 
With  the  dear  silver  of  your  floating  hair, 
Your  kindly  eyes,  your  simple  coat  and  waistcoat; 
For  now  you're  just  a  dear  old  gentleman, 
By  whom  a  grandchild  might  be  petted. 

The   Emperor. 

Petted ! 
[127] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Are  you  not  bored  to  see  the  heavy  jowls 
Of  Louis-Philip  on  the  coins  of  France  ? 

The   Emperor. 
Hush !  hush ! 

The   Duke. 
Do  you  adore  these  podgy  Bourbons? 

The   Emperor. 
You  are  not  like  your  cousins  the  Archdukes. 

The   Duke. 
Indeed  ? 

The   Emperor. 
Where  did  you  learn  your  saucy  tricks? 

The   Duke. 
I  learnt  them  playing  in  the  Tuileries. 

The   Emperor. 
Ah,  you  come  back  to  that? 

The   Duke. 

I  wish  I  could. 

The   Emperor. 
Can  you  recall  those  days? 

The   Duke. 

Oh,  only  vaguely. 

The   Emperor. 
Can  you  recall  your  father? 

The   Duke. 

I  remember  -^ 
A  man  who  pressed  me  hard  against  a  star. 
And  as  he  pressed  I  felt  with  tears  of  fright 
The  diamond  star  was  stamped  upon  my  heart: 
Sire,  it  has  stayed  there ! 

[128] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Emperor. 

Do  I  blame  you  for  it? 

The    Duke. 
Yes,  let  the  goodness  of  your  nature  speak ! 
When  I  was  small  you  loved  me,  did  you  not? 
You  loved  to  have  me  with  you  at  your  meals, 
And  so  we  used  to  dine  together — 

The   Emperor. 

Charming. 
The   Duke. 
My  hair  was  long,  and  I  was  Prince  of  Parma ; 
And  when  they  punished  me  you  let  me  off. 

The    Emperor. 
Do  you  remember  how  you  hated  ponies  ? 

The    Duke. 
One  day  they  showed  me  one  as  white  as  snow ; 
I  stamped  with  fury  in  the  riding-school. 

The   Emperor. 
You  thought  a  pony  was  a  deadly  insult. 

The    Duke. 
I  cried  with  rage :  I  want  a  great,  big  horse ! 

The   Emperor. 
And  now  you  want  another  great,  big  horse ! 

The   Duke. 
And  how  I  used  to  beat  my  German  nurses. 

The   Emperor. 
And  how  with  Colin  you  would  calmly  dig 
Enormous  holes  about  my  park — 

The   Duke. 

For  Crusoe. 

The    Emperor. 
He  was  Man  Friday. 

[  129] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

And  I  used  to  hide. 
I  had  a  gun,  three  hatchets  and  a  bow. 

The   Emperor. 
Then  you  stood  sentinel  before  my  door. 

The   Duke. 
As  a  hussar. 

The   Emperor. 

And  ladies,  coming  late, 
Found  this  excuse  quite  natural : — "  Oh,  Sire, 
We  only  stopped  to  kiss  the  sentinel !  " 

The   Duke. 
You  loved  me  then. 

The   Emperor. 
I  love  you  now. 

The   Duke. 

Then  prove  it! 
The   Emperor. 
My  Franz !   my  grandson ! 

The    Duke. 

Is  it  true  the  King    ' 
Would  simply  disappear  if  I  appeared?  (   , 

The   Emperor. 
Well— 

The   Duke. 
Is  it  true? 

The   Emperor. 
I— 

The   Duke. 

Don't  tell  lies! 

The   Emperor. 

Perhaps  I 

[130] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
I  love  you! 

The   Emperor. 
Yes;  if  you  appeared  alone, 
Without  a  drum,  upon  the  bridge  at  Strassburg, 
The  King  would  vanish. 

The   Duke. 

I  adore  you,  Grandad! 

The   Em  peror. 
I'm  stifled ! 

The   Duke. 
No. 

The   Emperor. 

I  should  have  held  my  tongue. 

The   Duke. 
Besides,  the  climate  of  Vienna's  bad : 
I'm  ordered  Paris — 

The   Emperor. 
Really? 

The   Duke. 

For  my  cough.  _^ 
If  I'm  to  spend  a  season  there,  of  course 
I  can't  stop  anywhere  but  at  the  Louvre. 

The   Emperor. 
Indeed ! 

The    Duke. 
And  if  you  liked — 

The   Emperor. 

They've  often  begged  us 
To  wink  at  your  escaping — 

The   Duke. 

Wink  at  once! 

[131] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Emperor. 
Oh,  for  all  me — 

T  H  E    Du  K  E. 
There's  no  one  else. 

The   Emperor. 

I'll  think. 
The   Duke. 
Don't  think !    Don't  think  those  horrid  second  thoughts  ! 
Consult  your  feelings  only,  and  your  heart. 
I'Twould  be  so  pretty  if  an  Emperor  once 
Hjpset  all  history  to  spoil  his  grandson. 
And  then  it's  something,  something  rather  fine, 
If  you  can  just  remark  quite  innocently, 
You  know :  "  My  Grandson,  Emperor  of  the  French." 

The   Emperor. 
Certainly. 

The   Duke. 
And  you'll  say  it !    Say  you'll  say  it  I 

The   Emperor. 
Well— 


The   Duke. 

Speak,  Sire! 

The 

Emperor. 
Yes,  then — Sire ! 

The   Duke. 

Ah, 

Sire! 

[They  salute  each 

other  as  equals.] 

The 

Emperor. 

Sire! 

The   Duke. 

Sire! 

[A  door  opens.] 

y  TheEmperor. 

Metternich.     Have  no  fear;   I'll — 

[  132  I 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

All  is  lostl 
[Enter  Metternich.] 

The   Emperor. 
It  is  my  will  this  child  shall  reign. 

Metternich. 

Delightful. 
I'll  tell  your  partisans  at  once. 

The   Duke. 

I  feared. 

The   Emperor. 

What  should  you  fear  ?    Am  I  not  master  here  ? 

The   Duke. 
Whom  will  you  send  me  as  Ambassador? 

Metternich. 
Delightful. 

The   Duke. 

And  you'll  visit  me  in  state? 

The   Emperor. 
Yes,  very  likely ;  when  the  chambers  rise. 

Metternich. 
We'll  only  ask  some  trifling  guarantees. 

The    Duke. 
Ask  what  you  like. 

The   Emperor. 

Well  ?  are  you  happy  ? 

Metternich. 

First 

We'll  come  to  terms  on  trivial  points  of  detail : 
Certain  seditious  groups  should  be  dissolved : 
Our  neighbors  must  not  harbor  thunderbolts. 

I  133] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Dear  grandfather ! 

Metternich. 

Ah — then  we're  very  weary 
Of  hearing  of  the  Heroes  of  July. 

The   Duke. 
But— 

Metternich. 

Now  the  imperiaHsts  and  radicals 

Are  Hnked :  we'll  cut  the  link ;  we  cannot  favor 

The  dangerous  modern  spirit.    We'll  expel 

Lammenais. 

The   Duke. 

But— 

Metternich. 

And  Chateaubriand.    Ah — 
We'll  also  put  a  muzzle  on  the  press. 

The   Duke. 
Oh,  there's  no  hurry. 

The   Emperor. 

Pardon  me,  there -is. 

The    Duke. 
Pardon  me,  that's  attacking  freedom. 

The   Emperor. 

Freedom ! 
Metternich. 
Ah — we  must  have  free  hand  in  Italy. 
Ah — not  so  much  excitement  about  Poland. 

The    Duke. 
Ah  ?    And  what  else  ? 

Metternich. 

Well,  we  shall  have  to  solve 
The  question  of  the  names.    You  know,  the  names 

[134] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Of  battles,  Sire,  which  you — well — did  not  win: 
The  Marshals  must  not  wear  them. 

The   Duke. 

What  is  that? 


The   Emperor. 


Perhaps — 


Metternich. 
Forgive  me;  but  they  must  not  think 
They're  lords  of  Austrian  places ;  and  you  cannot 
Approve  their  way  of  carrying  off  to  France 
Our  villages  by  means  of  upstart  titles. 

The   Duke. 
Grandfather !    Grandfather ! 

The   Emperor. 

Well — it's  evident — 

The   Duke. 
Yet  you  and  I  were  in  each  other's  arms ! 

[To  Metternich.] 
And  have  you  nothing  further  to  demand  ? 

Metternich. 
Yes;   the  suppression  of  the  Tricolor. 

The   Duke. 
Your  Excellency  wishes  me  to  wash 
The  banner  based  in  blood  and  crowned  with  heaven— 
For  it  was  dipped  in  horrors  that  bear  fruit. 
And  it  was  bathed  in  universal  hopes ! — 
Your  Excellency  asks  me  to  efface 
That  gleam  of  heaven  and  that  stain  of  blood, 
And,  having  nothing  but  a  blank  sheet  left, 
To  make  a  shroud  for  Freedom  out  of  that! 

The   Emperor. 
Freedom  again! 

[135] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Upon  my  fathers  side 
I  am  related  closely,  Sire,  to  Freedom. 

Metternich. 
Yes,  the  Duke's  grandsire  was  the  eighteenth  Bru- 
maire ! 

The   Duke. 
Yes,  and  the  Revolution  was  my  granddam! 

The   Emperor. 
Silence ! 

Metternich. 
The  Emperor  a  republican! 
Utopia! — Play  the  IMarseillaise  in  A 
On  trumpets,  while  the  sentimental  flute 
Sighs  "  God  preserve  the  Empire  "  in  E  fiat. 

The  Duke. 
The  two  go  very  well  together,  sir. 
And  make  a  tune  that  frightens  Kings  away! 

The   Emperor. 
This  to  my  face  ?    How  dare  you,  sir  ?    How  dare  you  ? 

The   Duke. 
Ah,  now  I  know  what  is  expected  of  me ! 

The   Emperor, 
What  does  it  mean  ?    What  is  the  matter  with  him  ? 

The   Duke. 
I  am  to  be  an  Austrian  Archduke 
\     On  a  French  throne! 


I 


The   Emperor. 

What  has  he  read  or  seen? 

The   Duke. 
I  have  seen  egg-cups,  handkerchiefs,  and  pipes ! 

[136] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Emperor. 
He's  mad !    The  words  he  utters  are  a  madman'sj_ 

The   Duke. 
Mad  to  have  thought  you'd  help  me  to  my  own. 

Metternich. 
'Tis  you  alone  obstruct  your  going  home. 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E. 
Yes,  in  a  gig  instead  of  on  a  gun ! 

The   Emperor. 
You  shall  not  go  at  all ! 

The   Duke. 
A  cage  ? 

The   Emperor. 

We'll  seel 

The    Duke, 
For  aU  your  cages  I  am  still  the  Eaglet  l""^ 

The   Emperor. 
The  eagle  on  my  flag  has  many  eaglets : 
You're  one  of  them :  that's  all. 

The   Duke. 

Oh,  gloomy  eagle! 
Sad,  double-headed  fowl,  with  heavy  eye : 
Eagle  of  Austria,  cruel  bird  of  night ! 
A  glorious  eagle  of  the  dawn  has  passed 
Athwart  thine  eyrie,  and  with  ruffled  feathers, 
Raging  and  terror-stricken,  thou  beholdest 
One  of  thine  eaglets  sprouting  golden  plumage ! 

The   Emperor. 
My  heart  was  softening:   I  regret  my  tears. 
These  books  and  weapons  shall  be  taken  from  you, 
Dietrichstein ! 

[137] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
He  is  not  in  the  palace. 

The   Emperor. 
Poor,  morbid  child,  we  will  suppress  whatever 
Too  much  reminds  you  who  your  father  was. 

The    Duke. 
Then  you  must  root  up  every  violet,  — . 
Drive  every  single  bee  out  of  your  park ! 

The   Emperor. 
Change  all  the  servants ! 

Metternich. 

I'll  dismiss  them  all: 
Otto,  Fritz,  Hermann,  Albrecht — 

The   Duke. 

Close  the  shutters, 
Lest  yonder  star  remind  me  of  my  father's. 

The   Emperor. 
And  as  for  Dietrichstein,  I'll  sign  at  once 
New  regulations — 

[To  Metternich.] 

Write. 

Metternich. 

Where  is  the  ink? 

The    Duke. 
My  inkstand's  on  the  table ;  you  may  use  it. 

Metternich. 
Where?    I  see  nothing! 

The   Duke. 

The  Minerva's  head, 
In  bronze  and  marble. 

Metternich. 

Still  I  cannot  see  it. 

[138  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Then  take  the  other,  made  of  burnished  gold,  •* 
On  yonder  console — 

Metternich. 
Where  ? 

The   Emperor, 

What  inkstands? 

The   Duke. 

Sire, 

Those  which  my  father  left  me. 

The   Emperor. 

What  do  you  mean? 

The   Duke. 
Yes !  in  his  testament !    And  there,  the  pistols, 
Four  pistols  of  Versailles.    Take  them  away. 

The    Emperor. 
[Bringing  his  fist  down  on  the  table.] 
What's  this? 

The   Duke. 
You  must  not  hit  the  table,  Sire ! 
Now  you've  knocked  down  the  sword  he  wore  as  Con- 
sul! 

The   Emperor. 

These  things  you  speak  of — 

The   Duke. 

Are  before  my  eyes!  -^ 
"  They  are  to  be  surrendered  to  my  son 
When  he  has  reached  sixteen."    Despite  the  crime 
Which  holds  them  back,  they're  mine:    I  have  their 

soul! 
The  soul  of  every  cross,  of  every  jewel. 
And  all  is  here :  the  three  mahogany  caskets, 
And  all  the  snuff-boxes,  and  all  the  spurs, 

[139] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  golden  garter-buckles  and  the  gorgets, 
I've  all !    The  iron  sword,  the  enamelled  sword, 
The  sword  in  which  a  never-setting  sun 
Has  left  its  fires  imprisoned,  so  that  none 
May  dare  to  draw  it  lest  the  sun  leap  forth ; 
I  have  the  sword-belts  also,  all  the  six ! 

The   Emperor. 
Silence ! 

The   Duke. 
"  To  be  surrendered  to  my  son 
When  he  has  reached  sixteen."    Oh,  Father,  sleep, 
For  I  have  all ;  even  your  uniforms. 
Oh,  yes  !    To  you  my  uniform  looks  white — 
Well,  it's  not  true — it's  false — I  am  pretending! 
Father,  behold,  it's  blue  and  red,  behold! 
Colonel  ?    Not  so !    Lieutenant  in  your  Guard  ! 
By  the  device  your  soldiers  bore  I  know^  it, 
Father,  who  gave  me  victories  for  sisters ! 
'Twas  not  in  vain  you  wished  me  to  possess 
The  alarm-clock  of  King  Frederick  of  Prussia, 
Which  you  magnificently  stole  from  Potsdam, 
For  here  it  is  !    'Tis  ticking  in  my  brain  ! 
It  is  the  clock  which  wakes  me  every  morning, 
Drives  me  exhausted  by  my  midnight  toil 
Back  to  my  narrow  table,  to  my  toil. 
To  be  more  fit  by  night-fall  for  the  throne ! 

The    Emperor. 
The  throne !  the  throne !    Oh,  never  hope  again 
That  you  may  reign  in  France,  you — Upstart's  son, 
Because  our  nobler  blood  has  made  you  look 
Rather  more  kingly  than  your  father  was. 

The   Duke. 
Forgive  me,  but  at  Dresden,  you  remember, 
You  all  appeared  like  lackeys  of  my  father. 

[  140] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Emperor. 
A  common  soldier ! 

The   Duke, 

He  had  but  to  ask 
And  Emperors  gave  their  daughters  to  this  soldier. 

The   Emperor. 
Perhaps.    I  cannot  say.    Mine  is  a  widow. 

The   Duke. 
Pity  I'm  here  as  living  evidence! 

The   Emperor. 
Have  you  forgotten  how  we  loved  each  other? 

The   Duke. 
No !    No !    My  birth  is  proof  that  you  were  beaten ! 
No !  you  can  only  hate  me ;  for  I  am 
Wagram  personified  before  your  eyes ! 

The    Emperor. 
Out  of  my  sight !    Begone ! 
[Exit  the  Duke.] 

The  child  I  loved! 

Metternich. 
Well,  Sire,  is  he  to  have  an  empire  ? 

The   Emperor. 

Never ! 
Metternich. 
Do  you  perceive  what  I  have  saved  you  from  ? 

The   Emperor, 
Ah !  did  you  hear  the  monstrous  things  he  said  ? 

Metternich. 
We  must  subdue  him. 

TheEmperor. 

For  his  own  sake ;  yes. 

£i4il 


^. 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
For  the  world's  peace  and  yours. 

The    Emperor. 

We  must  subdue  him. 

Metternich. 
I'll  come  and  speak  to  him  to-night. 

The   Emperor. 

What  grief 
He  gives  me ! 

Metternich. 
[Trying  to  lead  him  away.] 
Come. 

The   Emperor. 

You'll  speak  to-night? 

Metternich. 

This  scene 
Must  never  be  repeated. 

The   Emperor. 

It  has  hurt  me. 
Unhappy  child ! 

IMetternich. 
[Leading  him  off.] 

Come,  Sire. 

The   Emperor. 
[Without.] 

The  child — 
[His  voice  dies  azvay.] 

[The  Duke  opens  his  door  very  gently,  sees  they 
are  gone,  listens  a  moment,  then  enters  quickly 
and  places  one  of  Napoleon's  little  hats  on  the 
table.] 

The   Duke. 

The  signal ! 
[He  returns  to  his  room.] 
[Flambeau  enters.] 

[142] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau.  / 

*Tis  time.    Well,  signal?    Are  you  here? — Perhaps. 

[He  hunts  for  it.] 
"  Flambeau,"  he  said,  "  you  cannot  fail  to  find  it." 
Now,  is  it  high  or  low,  or  black  or  white  ? 
Or  great  or  small  ? 

[He  sees  the  hat.] 

The  Emperor's — !    Small  and  great! 

[He  goes  tozvard  the  urindow.] 
Oh,  but  the  Countess  watches  in  the  park. 
And  if  the  signal's  here  I  am  to  signal : 

[He  takes  out  his  handkerchief.] 
No !  This  won't  do.    A  white  flag  makes  her  ill. 

[A  servant  enters  with  a  readitig-lamp,  which  he 
carries  tozvard  the  Duke's  room.] 

The    Servant. 
The  Duke  of  Reichstadt's  reading-lamp. 

Flambeau. 

[Leaping  upon  him  and  seizing  the  lamp.] 

You  dolt! 
It's  leaking!    It  must  have  fresh  air! 

[He  takes  it  out  on  the  balcony.] 
You  wave  it  three  times  so :  arrange  the  wick ; 

[He  does  as  he  says  and  gives  the  lamp  back  to 
the  Servant.] 
That's  it.    See  that? 

The    Servant. 

Oh,  aren't  you  clever? 
[He  carries  the  lamp  into  the  Duke's  room.] 

Flambeau. 

Rather ! 

To-morrow — flight ! 

[Sedlnizky  enters.] 

Sedlnizky. 
The  Duke? 

[143  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 


In  there. 

Watch  here. 


Flambeau. 
[Pointing  to  the  room.] 

Sedlnizky. 

Flambeau. 
I'm  watching. 

Sedlnizky. 
Lock ! 
[He  goes  out.] 

Flambeau. 
[Locking  the  door  after  him.] 

Locked ! 

Sedlnizky. 
[Without.] 

Take  the  key  out. 

Flambeau. 

Out. 
Sedlnizky. 
None  but  the  Emperor  has  the  key.    Be  careful — 
Watch. 

Flambeau. 
As  I  always  do. 
[He  bends  over  the  key-holes  and  arranges  them 
carefully.  ] 

And  for  the  night 
I'll  close  the  eyelids  of  the  key-holes  softly. 

Sedlnizky's   Voice. 
Good-night,  you  Piedmontese. 

Flambeau. 

Good-night,  my  Lord. 

Sedlnizky's   Voice.  ^ 

Remember!  you're  on  duty. 

[  144] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

I'm  on  duty. 

Sedlnizky's   Voice. 
Well,  that's  all  right.    Good-night. 

Flambeau. 

Good-night ! 
[He  throws  off  his  livery  coat.    Puts  on  the  busby, 
which  is  standing  on  the  console,  and  shoulders 
the  musket.    He  is  now  in  the  full  accoutrement 
of  a  Groiadier  of  the  Guards.] 

And  thus, 
Suddenly  upright,  thin,  unliveried. 
Locked  in  till  dawn,  and  safe  against  surprise, 
Glowering  with  grizzled  brows  beneath  his  busby, 
Straight  in  his  ancient  uniform,  his  gun 
Firm  in  his  arm,  his  hand  on  his  right  nipple, 
The  fixed  and  regulation  attitude. 
Standing  thus  every  night  before  your  threshold, 
Giving  himself  a  password  full  of  pride, 
Pleased  with  a  deed  that's  grave,  and  yet  a  jest, 
A  Grenadier  at  Schonbrunn  stands  on  guard 
About  the  son  as  once  about  the  Father. 
'Tis  the  last  time !    You'll  never  hear  of  it. 
'Tis  for  myself.    A  private  luxury. 
I  must  be  mad  to  do  a  thing  like  this 
For  no  one's  eye,  but  just  to  say  "  By  Jove, 
That's  rather  good !  "    At  Schonbrunn !    In  their  teeth ! 
But  I'm  delighted! — I'm  content! 

[He  hears  the  noise  of  a  key  in  the  door.] 

I'm  damned! 
[  The  door  opens  gently.  ] 
Who  can  have  got  the  key? 

[He  retires  into  the  shadow  by  the  Duke's  door.] 
[Metternich  enters,  carrying  a  large  candela- 
brum.] 

['45] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 

No,  no!     This  scene 
Must  never  be  repeated. 

Flambeau. 

Nepomuk ! 

Metternich. 
Yes,  I  will  speak  to-night.     We  are  alone. 

[As  he  puts  down  the  candelahrum  he  sees  the  hat.] 
What's  this?    I  never  knew  he  had  one  like — 
Ah !   the  Archduchess  must  have  sent  him  this ; 
So  there  thou  art,  thou  legendary  hat! 
'Tis  many  years— Good  day !— What  sayst  thou  ?  What  ? 
No,  from  thy  little  sable  pyramid 
Twelve  years  of  splendor  gaze  on  me  in  vain. 
I  do  not  fear  thee  now. 
The  leathern  tag 

With  which  he  constantly  could  take  thee  off. 
And  so  win  cheers  yet  leave  thy  shape  unharmed. 
With  thee  he  fanned  himself  after  each  victory; 
Thou  couldst  not  fall  from  his  unheeding  fingers, 
But  straight  a  king  would  stoop  to  pick  thee  up. 
To-day,  my  friend,  thou  art  a  reach-me-down, 
And  if  I  tossed  thee  through  the  casement  yonder 
Where  wouldst  thou  end  thy  days? 

Flambeau. 
[To  himself.]  In  a  museum  I 

Metternich. 
The  famous  little  hat — how  very  ugly! 
They  called  it  little — is  it  really  little? 
No;    it  is  big;    enormous;    it's  the  hat 
A  little  man  puts  on  to  increase  his  inches. 
For  'twas  a  hatter  set  the  legend  going: 
The  real  Napoleon,  after  all,  was  Poupart. 
Ah,  never  think  my  hatred  of  thee  slumbers! 
'Twas  for  thy  shape's  sake  first  I  hated  thee, 

r  u6i 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Thou  vampire-bat  of  bloody  battle-fields, 

Hat  that  seemed  fashioned  out  of  raven's  wings. 

I  hated  thee  for  pitilessly  soaring 

Above  the  fields  which  witnessed  our  defeats, 

Half-circle,  seeming  on  the  ruddy  sky 

The  orb  half-risen  of  some  sable  sun ! 

And  for  thy  crown  wherein  the  devil  lurks, 

Thou  juggler's  hat,  laid  with  a  sudden  hand 

Upon  a  throne,  an  army,  or  a  nation — 

When  thou  wert  lifted  all  had  disappeared. 

I  hated  thee  for  the  salutes  I  gave  thee. 

For  thy  simplicity — mere  affectation — 

Thy  insolent  joy,  thou  piece  of  common  beaver 

Amid  the  glittering  diadems  of  gold ; 

For  staying  firmly  on  his  haughty  head 

When  I  sought  flattering  epithets  to  please  thee. 

Conqueror,  new,  acclaimed,  I  hated  thee! 

I  hate  thee  now,  old,  conquered  and  betrayed! 

I  hate  thee  for  thy  haughty  shadow,  cast 

Forever  on  the  wall  of  history ; 

I  hate  thee  for  thy  Jacobin  cockade. 

Staring  upon  me  like  a  bloodshot  eye ; 

For  all  the  murmurs  sounding  in  thy  shell. 

That  huge  black  shell  the  waves  have  left  behind 

Wherein  the  shuddering  listener  may  hear 

The  rumor  of  a  nation  on  the  march. 

I  hate  thee  for  the  pride  of  France,  whose  bounds 

Thou  hast  enlarged  until  she  scorns  the  world ; 

For  Beranger  I  hate  thee,  and  Raffet, 

For  all  the  songs  and  all  the  pasquinades, 

And  for  the  halo  of  Saint  Helena. 

I  hate  thee,  hate  thee.    I  shall  not  be  happy 

Until  thy  clumsy  triangle  of  cloth, 

Despoiled  of  its  traditions,  is  again 

What  it  should  ne'er  have  ceased  to  be  in  France — 

The  headgear  of  a  village  constable. 

[147  J 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

I  hate — but  suddenly — how  strange ! — the  present 
Sometimes  with  impish  glee  will  ape  the  past ! — 
Seeing  thy  well-known  shape  before  me  thus 
Carries  my  mind  back  to  a  distant  day, 
For  it  was  here  he  always  put  thee  down 
When  twenty  years  ago  he  sojourned  here. 
This  room  was  then  the  ante-chamber;  here. 
Waiting  till  graciously  he  showed  himself, 
Dukes,  Princes,  Magyars,  huddling  in  a  corner. 
Fixed  from  afar  their  humbled  eyes  upon  thee, 
Like  lions,  dreading  with  a  helpless  fury 
The  tamer's  hat  forgotten  in  the  cage. 
'Twas  thus  he  placed  thee,  and  here  lay,  as  now, 
Weapons  and  papers.    One  might  say  'twas  he 
Had  tossed  thee  carelessly  upon  the  map, 
That  this  were  still  his  home,  this  Bonaparte ! 
And  that  by  turning,  on  the  threshold — there — 
I  should  behold  the  Grenadier  on — 

[He  starts  on  seeing  Flambeau  standing  rigid 
before  the  Duke's  door;  he  rubs  his  eyes.] 

Ha! 
No!   no!     Fm  feverish;   my  tete-a-tcte 
With  the  old  hat  plays  havoc  with  my  nerves ! 

[He  looks  and  draivs  near.     Flambeau  does  not 
move.] 
Or  have  the  moonbeams  conjured  up  a  spectre? 
What  is  it,  then  ?    Let's  see — let's  see — let's  see ! 

[He  strides  furiously  tozvard  Flambeau.] 
Who  are  you,  fellow  ? 

Flambeau. 
[Presenting  his  bayonet.] 

Who  goes  there  ? 

M  EXTERN  I CH . 

[Recoiling.] 

The  devil ! 

[148] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 


[Coldly.] 
Pass,  devil. 

Flambeau. 

Metternich. 

With  a  forced  laugh,  coming  toward  him  again.] 
Yes, — a  very  clever  jest, 
But— 

Flambeau, 

[Presenting  his  bayonet  again.] 
Who  goes  there  ? 

[Recoiling.' 

Metternich. 
But— 

Flambeau. 

Move  and  you  are  dead 

But— I— 

Metternich. 

Flambeau. 

Quiet 

! 

What! 


Metternich. 
Let  me  pass ! 

Flambeau. 

The  Emperor  sleeps! 

Metternich. 

Flambeau. 
Silence ! 


Metternich, 

I'm  the  Austrian  Chancellor! 
I  am  all-powerful !    I'm — 

Flambeau. 

Shut  your  mouth! 

Metternich. 
I  want  to  see  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt ! 

CH9J 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Fl  A  M  B  E  AU. 

Out! 

Metternich. 
How — out  ? 

Flambeau. 

What's  Reichstadt?    Never  heard  of  Reichstadt! 

Auerstadt,  Elchingen,  they're  dukes  I  know. 

Reichstadt's  no  duke.    There's  been  no  victory  there. 

Metternich. 
But,  we're  at  Schonbrunn! 

Flambeau. 

I  should  rather  think  so ! 
Thanks  to  our  new  success  we're  quartered  here ; 
And  here  we're  getting  ready  at  our  leisure 
To  give  the  world  another  drubbing !     See  ? 

Metternich. 
What's  that  you  say  ?    A  new  success  ? 

Flambeau. 

Colossal ! 
Metternich. 
This  is  July  the  ninth  in  Eighteen — 

Flambeau. 

Nine! 
Metternich. 
Can  I  be  mad  ? 

Flambeau. 
Who  are  you?    Where  d'you  spring  from? 
Why  aren't  you  snug  in  bed?    It's  very  fishy — 

Metternich. 
I— 

Flambeau, 

Who  let  this  braggart  pass?    The  Mameluke? 

Metternich. 
The  Mameluke? 

[150] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

All's  going  to  the  dogs ! 

Metternich. 
But— 

Flambeau. 
You  here  in  the  ante-room  at  night ! 

Metternich. 
ButI— 

Flambeau. 
You  calmly  cross  the  Rosa  chamber 
Unchallenged  by  the  sentinel  on  guard ! 

Metternich. 

What? 

Flambeau. 
When  you  ventured  through  the  small  rotunda, 
Was  there  no  yatagan  to  shave  your  cheek? 
Were  there  no  sergeants  in  the  white  saloon 
Brewing  their  punch  upon  the  golden  stove? 
No  bristling  veterans  in  the  china-room? 
And  in  the  galleries?    The  Grenadiers 
Saw  you  come  strolling  as  a  matter-of-course  ? 
A  man  may  cross  the  oval  cabinet 
And  not  be  turned  to  mince-meat  by  Duroc? 

Metternich. 
The  Marshal — ? 

Flambeau. 
Is  the  bulldog  turned  to  lapdog? 

Metternich. 
I  come  here — 

Flambeau. 

So  the  palace  is  an  inn? 
And  when  you'd  managed  all  the  sentinels, 
Where  were  the  rest  ?    The  porter  ?    Gone  to  bed  ? 

[151] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  valet?    Absent?    And  the  secretary? 
Where  was  he  hidden?    In  his  own  portfolio? 

Metternich. 
But  I— 

Flambeau. 
Instead  of  being  after  you, 
No  doubt  the  Aide-de-Camp  was  after  women! 

Metternich. 
But— 

Flambeau. 
And  the  Moor  was  saying  prayers  to  Allah  ? 
At  any  rate  it's  lucky  I  was  here. 
What  discipline!     If  he  looks  into  this 
I'll  bet  my  head  he'll  let  the  beggars  know! 

Metternich. 
I'm  going — 

Flambeau. 
Ah!   don't  stir!    You'll  wake  him! 
He's  sleeping  on  his  little  bed  of  laurels. 

Metternich. 
[Falling  into  an  armchair.] 
Was  never  such  a  dream  !    'Twill  make  an  epic ! 

[His  hand  touches  the  flame  of  one  of  the  candles.] 
Well,  but  this  candle — 

Flambeau. 
Burns. 

Metternich. 
[Feeling  the  point  of  Flambeau's  bayonet.] 

This  weapon — 

Flambeau. 

Stings ! 
Metternich. 
Then  I'm  awake!    I'm — 

[152I 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

Hold  your  tongue  t 

Mettern  I  c  h  . 
And  what  of  Waterloo? 

Flambeau. 

Of  water — what? 
[Listening.] 
The  Emperor  stirred. 

Metternich. 
The  Emperor? 

Flambeau. 

Oh,  my  stars! 

Now  you  turn  whiter  than  a  bugler's  horse ! 

Metternich. 
It  is  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt!     I'm  not  scared! 
It  is  the  Duke!    I'm  sure  of  it! 

Flambeau. 

The  Emperor! 
[The  Duke  enters,  with  the  reading  lamp  in  his 
hand.] 

Metternich. 
Aha !    'Tis  you !    'Tis  you !    It  is  your  Highness ! 
Ah,  but  how  glad  I  am ! 

The   Duke. 
[Puzcled.] 

Why  are  you  glad? 

Metternich. 
The  joke  was  played  so  well,  I  really  thought 
Another  might  come  out ! 

Flambeau. 
[As  if  waking  from  a  dream.] 

Faith,  so  did  I! 

[153] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
[To  Flambeau.] 
What's  this  ? 

Flambeau. 
My  little  joke. 

Metternich. 
[Ringing.] 

Help! 

The   Duke. 

Fly! 

Flam  beau. 

The  window! 

The   Duke. 
The  sentinel  will  shoot  you! 

Flambeau. 

If  he  can. 

T  H  E    Du  KE. 
Your  livery ! 

Metternich. 
[Putting  his  foot  on  it.] 

No! 

Flambeau. 
Bah! 
[Aside  to  the  Duke,  while  Metternich  rings 
again.] 

I  will  seek  my  cavern. 

The   Duke. 

But  I— 

Flambeau. 
The  ball  to-morrow ! 

The   Duke. 

Are  you  mad? 

[154  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
You'll  find  me. 

The  Duke, 
Quiet ! 
[Flambeau  goes  out  by  the  ivindow.] 

Metternicii. 

If  he'd  only  break 
His  neck — He's  singing! 

The  Duke. 

[On  the  balcony.] 

Hush ! 

Flambeau's  Voice. 

My  little  joke! 
[A  shot  is  heard.] 

The   Duke. 
Missed ! 

Metternich. 

With  what  ease  he  finds  his  way  about. 

The   Duke. 
He  knows  it;  he  has  been  here  once  before. 

Metternich. 
[To  the  Lackeys  who  show  themselves  at  the  door.] 
Too  late.    Begone.    I  do  not  need  your  help. 
[The  Lackeys  disappear.] 

The   Duke. 
And  not  a  word  of  this  to  the  police ! 
i  Metternich. 

I  never  raise  a  laugh  against  myself. 
What's  the  importance  of  a  veteran's  joke? 
You're  not  Napoleon? 

The   Duke. 

Who  has  settled  that? 

Metternich. 
You  have  his  hat,  perhaps,  but  not  his  head! 

[155] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Ah,  yes,  an  epigram  to  damp  my  ardor.  * 

'Tis  not  the  pin-prick  this  time,  'tis  the  lash 
That  drives  me  headlong  toward  the  wildest  dreams. 
I've  not  the  head,  you  say?    How  do  you  know ? 

Metternich. 
[Takes  the  candelabrum   in   his  hand  atid  leads  the 
Duke  to  the  chez'al  glass.] 

How  do  I  know  ?    Just  glance  into  this  mirror. 
Look  at  the  sullen  sadness  of  your  face, 
The  grim  betrayal  of  your  fair  complexion, 
This  crushing  golden  hair — I  bid  you  look! 

The   Duke. 

[Struggling  to  get  out  of  his  grasp.] 
No! 

Metternich. 
You're  environed  with  a  fatal  mist! 

The   Duke. 
No! 

Metternich. 
Though  you  know  it  not,  'tis  Germany, 
'Tis  Spain,  for  ages  dormant  in  your  blood, 
Make  you  so  haughty,  sorrowful,  and  charming. 

The   Duke. 
^   No!  no! 

Metternich. 
Bethink  you  of  your  self-distrust ! 
You — reign?     Come,  come!     You  would  be  pale  and 

*van ; 
One  of  those  timid,  introspective  kings 
Who  are  imprisoned  lest  they  abdicate. 

T  H  E   D  u  ke. 
No,  no! 

[156I 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
Not  yours  the  energetic  brow ! 
Yours  is  the  brow  of  languor  and  of  yearning. 

The   Duke. 
[Shaking,  passes  his  left  hand  across  his  brow.] 
My — brow  ? 

Metternich. 
And  drearily  your  Highness  passes 
Over  an  Austrian  brow  a  Spanish  hand ! 

The   Duke. 
My — hand  ? 

Metternich. 
Observe  the  frail  and  tapering  fingers 
Seen  fair  and  jewelled  in  long  lines  of  portraits ! 

The   Duke. 
No! 

Metternich. 
And  those  eyes  through  which  your  ancestors 
Look  forth ! 

The   Duke. 
The  eyes — ? 

Metternich. 

Ay !  note  them  well !    The  eyes 
Wherein  how  many  eyes  we've  seen  before 
Dream  of  the  fagot,  weep  for  perished  squadrons ! 
Dare  you,  whose  conscience  is  so  sensitive, 
Ascend  the  throne  of  France  with  eyes  like  those? 

The   Duke. 
Ah!   but  my  Father! — 

Metternich. 

Naught  of  him  is  in  you ! 
Search !    Search  again !    Come  closer  to  the  light ! 
He  stole  our  ancient  blood  to  mix  with  his, 

[1571 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

That  his  might  grow  more  ancient.    But  he  stole 
Only  the  racial  melancholy,  and 
The  feebleness,  and — 

The   Duke. 

I  beseech  you! 


Metternich 


Look! 


Look  in  the  mirror !    You  turn  pale  ? 

The   Duke. 

Enough ! 
Metternich, 
And  on  your  lips  you  recognize  the  pout 
As  of  a  doll,  of  Marie  Antoinette, 
Her  whom  your  France  beheaded ;  for  your  Father, 
While  stealing  glory,  stole  mishap  as  well ! 
Nay !   raise  the  chandelier ! 

[He  forces  the  chandelier  into  the  Duke's  right 
hand,  and  holds  him  by  that  wrist.] 

The   Duke. 

I  am  afraid, 

Metternich. 
You  cannot  gaze  into  this  glass  at  night. 
But  all  your  race  will  gibber  at  your  back ! 
Look — in  the  gloom — that  shade  is  Mad  Johanna, 
And  yonder  Thing,  that  moves  so  deathly  slow, 
Is  the  pale  sovereign  in  his  crystal  coffin. 

The    Duke. 
No !    Tis  the  radiant  pallor  of  my  Father ! 

Metternich. 
Yonder,  recoiling,  Rudolph  and  his  lions! 

The   Duke. 
The  clash  of  steeds  and  weapons !    'Tis  the  Consul ! 

[158] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
Lo!   in  a  noisome  crypt  one  fashions  gold. 

The   Duke. 
He  fashions  glory  on  the  sands  of  Eg>'pt. 

Metternich. 
Aha !    Here's  Charles  the  Fifth,  with  hair  cropped  close, 
Dying  for  having  sought  self-burial ! 

The   Duke. 

Help! 

Father ! 

Metternich. 
The  Escurial !    Grisly  phantoms 
And  frowning  walls ! 

The   Duke. 

Ah,  hither!   smiling  visions: 
Compi&gne  and  Malmaison ! 

Metternich. 

You  see  them !  see  them ! 

The   Duke. 
Roll,  drums  of  Areola,  and  drown  his  voice! 

Metternich. 
The  mirror's  teeming! 

The   Duke. 

[Tnnsting  his  wrist  loose,  but  still  holding  the  chan- 
delier.] 

I  will  shatter  it ! 

Metternich. 
Others,  and  others  yet,  arrive ! 

The   Duke. 
[Hurling  the  chandelier  into  the  mirror.] 

"T'ls  shattered! 
Not  one  remains !    Not  one ! 

[159] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
[Pointing  at  the  Duke  zvith  a  terrible  gesture.'] 

Yes!— One! 


The   Duke 


It  is  not  I !    Not  I !— My  Father !— Help ! 


No,  no ! 


Curtain. 


[i6o] 


THE   FOURTH   ACT 


The  Park  at  Schonhrunn.  Ruins  of  a  Roman  Arch  in 
the  centre,  in  frofit  of  which  is  a  fountain.  En- 
trances on  the  right  and  on  the  left.  Towards  the 
right,  in  front,  is  a  pile  of  stones,  parts  of  columns, 
a  head  of  Neptune,  a  broken  urn,  the  whole  cov- 
ered with  ivy  and  shrubs.  Orange-trees  in  boxes, 
bearing  fruit  and  blossom,  are  dotted  about,  with 
lamps  hanging  in  their  foliage.  At  the  rise  of  the 
curtain  a  gay  throng  of  Lords  and  Ladies  in 
dominos  and  other  disguises  are  moving  about 
the  stage. 


w 


First   Mask. 
HO  is  the  down? 

Second   Mask. 

Don't  know. 
[  I6i  ] 


L"  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Third   Mask. 

The  Cardinal? 
First   Mask. 
Don't  know. 

Second   Mask. 
The  Punchinello? 

Third   Mask. 

I  don't  know. 

Fourth    Mask. 
It's  too  delicious. 

Fifth    Mask. 
All  incognito. 

The   Punchinello. 
[To  a  lady  in  a  domino.] 
Your  ear — 

The   Domino. 
What  for? 

The   Punchinello. 

Ah,  hush !    My  secret ! 

First   Mask. 

Watteau — 
The   Punchinello. 
[To  another  Domino.] 
Your  ear — 

First   Mask. 
Would  have  delighted  in  these  figures — 

The   Domino. 
[To  the  Punchinello.] 
What  for? 

The   Punchinello. 
Ah,  hush !    My  secret ! 

First   Mask. 

And  these  ruins. 

[  162  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Another   Mask. 
All  is  uncertain,  tremulous,  and  vague — 
Our  hearts,  the  music,  moonbeams,  and  the  water. 

Metternich. 
And  so,  dear  Attache  of  the  French  Embassy, 
Here  I've  contrived  half-darkness  and  half-silence. 
And  yonder  in  the  music  and  the  light 
The  ball— 

The   Attache, 
It's  really — 

Metternich. 

Rather  good,  I  think. 
This  way — 

The   Attache. 
You  condescend  to  be  my  guide  ? 

Metternich. 
Dear  friend,  I'm  prouder  of  this  little  ball, 
Of  having  mingled  all  these  courtly  perfumes 
With  the  wild  odors  of  the  midnight  woods, 
Than  ever  of  the  Congress  of  Verona. 
That  is  the  vestiary  and  the  way  out 
So  that  in  leaving  you  may  find  at  once 
Your  Polish  mantle  or  your  overcoat. 
Lastly,  the  theatre  which  I've  contrived 
On  yonder  bowling-green,  near  Cupid's  fountain, 
Where,  in  a  set-piece  made  of  natural  foliage. 
Some  princely  amateurs  will  play  "  Michel 
And  " — I  don't  know — some  dainty  little  piece 
By  a  French  author:   Eugene — what's-his-name ? 

The   Attache. 
And — supper  ? 

Metternich. 
Here. 

[163] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Attache. 
What? 

Metternich. 

Every  box  will  blossom 
With  snowy  tablecloths  and  golden  dishes. 

The    Attache. 
The  orange-trees? 

Metternich. 

My  own  idea.    They'll  bring 
All  they  can  find.    Under  each  leafy  ball 
Two  couples  will  be  seated,  starved  and  laughing. 

The   Attache. 
Supper  in  short  at  separate  orange-trees? 
Splendid. 

Metternich. 
Why,  yes. — And  as  for  grave  affairs — 

[To  a  Lackey.] 
Tell  them  to  play  no  more  Slavonic  dances — 

[To  the  Attache.] 
I  do  not  put  them  off.    Not  I.    I  leave 
Ere  supper-time  to  meet  the  Hospodars — 
They  are  awaiting  me — 
[To  a  Lackey.] 

Those  wreaths  are  skimpy. 
My  hobby's  organizing  balls  like  this ; 
And  when  the  revelry  is  at  its  highest 
Back  to  the  everlasting  Eastern  Question ! 
I  love  to  rule  a  people  and  a  ball : 
The  Arbiter  of  Europe — 

The   Attache. 

And  its  elegance! 

G  E  N  tz. 

Arbiter  Ele gantiarum ! 

[164] 


Rum. 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
Ah, 
You're  talking  Latin;  you've  been  drinking? 

G  E  N  TZ . 

Metternich. 
Fanny  has  kept  you  very  late  at  table; 
Oh,  this  liaison!  you're  as  good  as  lost. 

G  E  N  T  z  . 
What?    I  and  Fanny?    Off. 

Metternich. 
What? 

G  E  N  TZ . 

Off. 

Metternich. 
[Seeing  the  Prefect  of  Police.] 

Sedlnizky. 

Sedlniz  ky. 
One  word.  / 

G  E  N  TZ . 

[To  Metternich.] 
It's  off. 
[To  a  Domino.] 

'Twas  wrong  to  bring  you,  Fanny. 
If  they  discovered  you !     What  an  imprudence ! 
A  public  dancer! 

Fanny, 
Oh,  I'll  dance  discreetly. 

G  E  N  T  z  . 
They'll  find  you  out.    For  heaven's  sake  be  clumsy, 

Metternich. 
A  plot? 

Sedlnizky. 
Yes;   for  the  Duke! — and  at  this  ball! 

[165] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
[Lightly.] 

Here!   you  alarm  me! 

Ge  N  TZ  , 

Be  an  angel,  Fanny, 
And  tell  me  why  you  wished  to  come. 

Fan  n  y. 

Caprice. 
Metternich. 
I  fear  the  Duke  no  more.    I've  killed  his  pride, 
And  he's  in  mourning  for  it.    He'll  not  come. 

Sedlnizky. 
But  there's  a  plot ! 

Metternich. 
Bah !  ^ 

Sedlnizky. 

Women — 

Metternich. 

Featherbrains. 

Sedlnizky. 
No!    Noble  ladies. 

Metternich. 
Really? 

Sedlnizky. 

Poles  and  Greeks: 
Princess  Grazalcowitch. 

Metternich. 

Grazalcowitch  I 
That's  terrible ! 

[To  a  Lackey.] 

Pray  let  me  have  a  sandwich. 
_  [  i66  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Sedlnizky. 
You  laugh  ? — Hush ! — Here  they  come.     They've  fled 

the  hght 
And  seek  a  nook  to  whisper  in. 

[Enter  several  Dominos.] 

One   of   the   Dominos. 

My  dear, 
How  sweet  it  is  to  run  a  risk  for  his  sake. 

Second   Domino. 
Let  us  conspire ! 

Third   Domino. 

His  hair's  such  lovely  auburn. 

Fourth   Domino. 
It's  like  a  pretty  little  halo,  dear, 
Through  which  a  regal  crown  is  dimly  seen. 

Fifth    Domino. 
He  has  a  doubly-fascinating  charm : — 
A  fair  Napoleon  !    Hamlet  dressed  in  white ! 

First   Domino. 
Let  us  conspire ! 

Second   Domino. 

First,  I  suggest  we  order 
A  golden  bee  from  Stieger  in  Vienna. 

Another   Domino. 
Vienna !    Why  ?    That  would  be  idiotic ! 
We'll  have  it  made  by  Odiot  in  Paris. 

Fourth    Domino. 
I  move  we  always  wear  with  every  dress 
A  very  striking  bunch  of  violets. 

First   Domino. 
That's  it,  Princess ! 

[167] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Another   Domino. 

And  let  us  risk  returning 
To  Empire  fashions. 

Second   Domino. 

For  evening:  not  for  day. 

Third   Domino. 
Dear,  don't  forget  the  horrible  short  waists. 

All. 
And  all  the  puffs ! — and  ruches ! — Dearest ! 

Metternich. 

Ladies- 
All. 
Good  heavens! 

Metternich. 
Go  on  with  your  delicious  plotting. 
Conspire  !  conspire !    Ha-ha  ! 

[He  goes  out,  laughing  heartily.] 

First   Domino. 

And  now 
That  thanks  to  idle  chatter  we've  removed 
Whatever  doubts  Sedlnizky  had  aroused, 
We'll  prove  that  after  female  Machiavellis 
The  Metternichest  Metternich's  a  baby. 


Yes! 


Yes! 


All. 

First   Dom  ino. 
Each  remembers  what  she  has  to  do? 

All. 

First   Domino, 
Mingle  with  the  dances. 

;i68] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Several   Masks. 
[Pursuing  another.] 

He's  so  funny! 

A    Mask. 
It  must  be  Sandor! 

Another. 

No !   it's  Fiirstenberg ! 

Another. 
And  who's  the  bear,  dancing  to  Schubert's  waltz? 

A    Mask. 
What's  sad  Elvira's  dress?    A  star? 

G  E  N  T  z  . 

A  night-light. 
A   Mask. 
Thecla,  the  hypocrite — ? 

G  E  N  T  z  . 

Disguised  as  Truth. 

TiBURTIUS. 

[Entering  with  Theresa.] 
Not  gone  to  Parma,  sister? 

Theresa. 

No.     To-morrow. 
The  Duchess  put  it  off  to  see  this  ball. 

[Pointing  to  a  Domino  who  passes  at  the  back 
accompanied  by  a  Mask.] 
She's  yonder  with  Bombelles :  the  greenish  cape. 

TiBURTIUS. 

I'm  glad  you're  going,  for  Noblesse  oblige; 
I  couldn't  stand  much  more  of  those  asides 
Between  the  little  Bonaparte  and  you. 

Theresa. 
What? 

[  169  ] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

TiBURTIUS. 

'Tis  our  glory  that  our  ancestors 
Have  not  been  over-prudish  with  our  kings ; 
It  is  no  fall  to  pick  up  handkerchiefs 
When  on  the  handkerchief  a  lily's  broidered. 
But  honor  never  will  accept  a  rag 
Which  bears  the  Bonapartist  weed  and  hornet. 
Woe  to  the  Ogre's  brat — ! 

Theresa, 
What ! 


TiBURTIUS 


If  he  touched  you  I 


Theresa. 
You  use  expressions,  brother — 

TiBURTIUS. 

They  are  warnings. 
A    Bear. 
[Passing  zvith  a  Chinese  zvoman.] 
How  do  you  know  I  am  a  diplomat  ? 

The  Chinese  Woman. 
Why,  by  the  skilful  way  you  hide  your  claws. 

The   Attache. 
[Pursuing  Fanny.] 

Is  there  no  way  of  knowing  who  you  are? 
Now,  are  you  English.'' 

Fanny. 
Ja. 

The   Attache. 

Or  German? 

Fanny. 

Out. 
Prokesch. 
[Entering  with  the  Duke.] 
My  Lord,  is  not  the  ball  beyond  compare? 

[  170] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Punchinello. 
[To  a  Domino.] 
Your  ear — ! 

The   Domino, 
What  for? 

The    Punchinello. 

My  secret !    Hush ! 
[To  another  Domino.] 

Your  ear ! 
Prokesch. 
This  corner's  charming,  given  up  to  shadows — 

The  Chinese  Woman. 
[To  the  Bear.] 
What  are  you  carrying  on  your  arm  ? 

The   Bear. 

My  nose-ring. 

Prokesch. 

Charming,  those  scattered  blocks,  the  broken  god, 
The  ivied  urn,  and,  in  its  frame  of  stone. 
Yonder  the  water.    It  is  like — 

The   Duke. 

A  mirror! 

Prokesch. 
What  had  Prince  Metternich  to  say  last  night? 

[Seeing  the  Duke  unmask.] 
You  take  your  mask  off  ? 

The   Duke. 

And,  alas,  that's  all. 
A  stone. 

Prokesch. 

What  for? 

The   Duke. 

To  cast  into  the  pond — 
All's  vanished.    Only  circles  on  the  water. 

[171] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Prokesch. 
You  are  depressed,  and  yet  to-night  the  plot 
Must  come  to  a  head  if  I  may  trust  the  symptoms. 
These  Hnes  were  shpped  into  my  hand  this  morning: 

[He  takes  a  note  out  of  his  pocket.] 
"  Ask  him  to  be  there  early,  and  to  wear 
His  uniform  beneath  a  violet  cloak." 

The    Duke. 
Oh,  'twere  too  criminal — 

Prokesch. 

The  note — 

The   Duke. 

The  note 

Is  from  a  woman  anxious  not  to  miss  me. 
I've  taken  her  advice,  for  I  am  here 
Only  for  love's  adventure. 

Prokesch. 
No! 

The   Duke. 

That's  all. 

Prokesch. 

But  then— the  plot  ? 

The   Duke. 

Oh,  'twere  too  criminal, 
Dear  countr)%  made  of  sunshine  and  of  laughter. 
To  raise  upon  the  high  seat  of  thy  glory 
A  child  of  night,  misfortune,  and  the  Escurial ! 
What  if,  when  I  were  seated  there,  the  past, 
Plunging  its  yellow  hands  into  my  soul. 
With  hideous  claws  unearthed  some  ancestor: 
Some  Rudolph  or  some  Philip  ?    Ah  !   I  dread 
Lest  at  the  humming  of  Imperial  bees 
rrhe  monster  sleeping  in  me  should  awake. 

[  172] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Prokesch. 
[Laughing.] 

Prince,  this  is  madness ! 

The   Duke. 

{With  a  shudder  and  a  look  which  makes  Prokesch 

start  hack  with  horror.] 

Madness !    Do  you  think  so  ? 

Prokesch. 
Good  heavens ! 

.  Th  E    Du  K  E. 

Buried  in  their  fastnesses, 
Cowering  in  Bohemia  or  Castile, 
Each  had  his  madness.    What  is  mine  to  be? 
Come !    We'll  decide !    You  see  I  am  resigned. 
'Tis  time  to  choose — and  I  have  choice  enough : 
My  thoughtful  forebears  left  a  catalogue ! 
Shall  I  be  melomaniac  or  astrologer? 
Catch  birds,  bend  o'er  alembics,  mumble  prayers? 

Prokesch. 
Too  well  I  see  what  Metternich  has  done! 

The   Duke. 
Grandfather,  shall  I  carry  on  your  great 
Herbarium,  where  the  hellebore  is  missing? 
Or  shall  I,  living,  play  at  being  dead  ? 
Which  ancestor  will  godfather  my  madness? 
The  living-dead,  the  alchemist,  or  bigot? 
You  see,  they  took  their  madness  rather  sadly. 
But  mingled  perfumes  make  a  novel  scent ; 
My  brain,  mixed  of  these  gloomy  brains,  may  start 
Some  pretty  little  madness  of  its  own. 
Come  !    What  shall  my  peculiar  madness  be  ? 
By  heavens !    My  instincts,  conquered  till  to-day, 
Make  it  quite  simple:   I'll  be  mad  with  love! 
I'll  love  and  love,  and  crush,  with  bitter  hate. 
This  Austrian  lip  under  a  passionate  kiss! 

[173] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Prokesch. 
Prince ! 

The   Duke. 
As  Don  Juan  I  am  all  my  race ! 
Snarer  of  hearts,  astrologer  of  eyes; 
I'll  have  herbaria  full  of  blighted  names, 
And  the  philosopher's  stone  I  seek  is  love! 

Prokesch. 
My  Lord ! 

The   Duke. 
Why,  if  you  think  of  it,  dear  friend. 
Napoleon's  son,  Don  Juan,  is  strict  logic. 
The  soul's  the  same:   ever  dissatisfied; 
The  same  unceasi«fclust  of  victory. 
Oh  splendid  blood  Sother  has  corrupted. 
Who,  striving  to  be  Caesar,  was  not  able ; 
^Thy  energy  is  not  all  dead  within  me. 
A  misbegotten  Caesar  is  Don  Juan ! 
Yes,  'tis  another  way  of  conquering; 
Thus  I  shall  know  that  fever  of  the  heart 
Which  Byron  tells  us  kills  whom  it  devours; 
And  'tis  a  way  of  being  still  my  father. 
Napoleon  or  Don  Juan ! — They're  decision, 
The  magic  will,  and  the  seductive  grace. 
When  to  retake  a  great  unfaithful  land, 
Calm  and  alone,  sure  of  himself  and  her. 
The  adventurer  landed  in  the  Gulf  of  Juan, 
He  felt  Don  Juan's  thrill ;  and  when  Don  Juan 
Pricked  a  new  conquest  in  his  list  of  loves. 
Did  he  not  feel  the  pride  of  Bonaparte? 
And,  after  all,  who  knows  whether  'tis  greater 
To  conquer  worlds,  or  be  a  moment  loved  ? 
So  be  it !    'Tis  well  the  legend  closes  thus, 
And  that  this  conqueror  is  the  other's  son. 
I'm  the  fair  shadow  of  the  dusky  hero, 

[174] 


L  '  A  1  G  L  O  N 

And,  as  he  conquered  nations,  one  by  one, 
So  will  I  conquer  women,  one  by  one. 
Moonbeams  shall  be  my  sun  of  Austerlitz ! 

Prokesch. 
Ah,  silence !  for  your  irony's  too  bitter. 

The   Duke. 
Oh,  yes;   I  know.     I  hear  the  spectres  crying — 
Blue-coated  spectres  torn  along  the  whirlwind — 
"  Well  ?    What  about  the  Imperial  tale  of  triumph  ? 
Our  toil  ?  our  wounds  ?  our  glory  ? — What  about 
The  snow,  the  blood,  the  history,  the  dead 
We  left  on  all  the  fields  of  victory  ? 
What  will  you  do  with  these?  " — I'll  charm  the  ladies! 
It's  fine,  among  the  people  in  tSif  Prater, 
To  ride  a  horse  that  cost  three  ffiousand  florins. 
Which  one  can  christen  Jena.    Austerlitz 
Is  a  sure  bait  to  catch  a  fair  coquette. 

Prokesch. 
You'll  never  have  the  heart  to  use  it  thus. 

The    Duke, 
Why,  yes ;  why,  yes,  my  friend.    And  in  my  scarf — 
For  'tis  a  thing  looks  well  upon  a  lover — 
I'll  wear  a  dainty  eaglet  for  a  pin. 
There's  music! — Now,  O  Caesar's  son,  you're  but 
Mozart's  Don  Juan !     Nay,  not  even  Mozart's ! 
Strauss's !    I'll  waltz ;   for  now  I  must  become 
Charming  and  useless:    Austrian  fancy-goods! 
My  aunt? — Why — ! 

Prokesch. 
Oh,  not  that! 


The  Duke. 

[Prokesch  goes  out.] 

[175] 


I  want  to  see — 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Duke. 
How  deep  the  linden's  perfume  is  to-night. 

The    Archduchess. 
Notice  my  salver.     I'm  so  proud  of  it. 

T  H  E     D  u  K  E. 
You  represent? 

The   Archduchess, 

The  "  Chocolate-girl,"  the  famous 
Picture  in  Dresden. 

The   Duke. 

[Affectedly.]  Cha'ming.    But  your  chocolate 

Must  be  a  nuisance. 

The   Archduchess. 
No. 

The   Duke. 

Do  put  it  down. 

The   Archduchess. 
Well,  Franz?    A  little  bit  in  love  with  life? 

The   Duke. 
Glad  to  be  nephew  of  a  pretty  aunt. 

The   Archduchess. 
And  I  am  glad  to  have  so  big  a  nephew. 

The    Duke. 
Too  pretty. 

The   Archduchess. 
And  too  big. 

The   Duke. 

For  such  a  game. 

The   Archduchess. 
What  game? 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E  . 
The  game  of  tender  intimacy. 

[176] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Archduchess. 
I  fear  your  eyes  to-night — ! 

The   Duke. 

But  I  love  yours ! 

The   Archduchess. 
Ah,  now  I  see !    As  all  the  court  is  masked, 
Even  friendship  wears  the  domino  of  love. 

The   Duke. 
Oh  friendship — auntie  with  a  cousin's  eyes — 
Friendship  and  love  are  always  much  too  near 
'Twixt  aunts  and  nephews,  god-sons  and  god-mothers— 
Oh !  do  but  smell  the  fragrance  of  the  lindens ! — 
'Twixt  pretty  chocolate-girls  and  officers, 
And  frontier  incidents  are  bound  to  happen. 

The   Archduchess. 
Our  friendship's  lost  its  bloom. 

The   Duke. 

I  dearly  love 
This  sentiment  one  cannot  understand, 
Where  all's  confused  and  mingled — 

The   Archduchess. 

No,  let  be. 
[She  moves  away.] 

The   Duke. 
Oh,  if  you  put  on  airs  of  an  Archduchess —  I 

The   Archduchess. 
Farewell ;   you've  pained  me  deeply,  Franz. 
[She  goes.] 

The   Duke. 

Ah,  bah  I 
Into  our  friendship  I  let  fall  a  drop, 
And  friendship  turns  to  troubled  love.    I'll  wait, 
[He  sees  Theresa.] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Why !    What  is  this  ?    How  comes  it  you  are  here  ? 
So  you're  not  hastening  toward  the  skies  of  Parma? 
And  all  this  grass?    What  are  you? 

Theresa. 

"Little  Brooklet. 
The   Duke. 
Ah,  yes,  I  know.    An  exile  on  his  rock, 
My  father  had  a  brooklet  for  his  friend 
To  drown  the  gaoler's  voice,  and  that  is  why 
At  Schonbrunn,  which  is  my  Saint  Helena, 
My  soul  must  not  be  left  deprived  of  comfort. 
Having  the  gaoler  I've  the  brooklet  too. 

Theresa. 
But  you  will  never  stoop  to  look  at  me. 

The   Duke. 
Because  I  dreamed  of  flying  from  my  rock; 
But  that's  all  over. 

Theresa. 
How? 

The   Duke. 

All  hope  is  gone. 
I  wake  from  dreams. 

Theresa. 
You  suffer? 

The   Duke. 

Must  give  her  murmuring  freshness. 

Theresa. 

The   Duke. 
What  if  I  trouble  its  waters? 


Little  Brooklet 


Here  it  is. 


Theresa. 

Trouble  them. 

[178] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

Come  to  the  little  house  among  the  trees — 
My  hunting  lodge — to-night! 

Theresa. 

I  am  to  come— ! 
The   Duke. 
Say  neither  yes  nor  no. — I'll  wait — 

Theresa. 

Alas! 
The    Duke. 

Think  how  unhappy  I  shall  henceforth  be ! 
I've  lost  all  hope  of  playing  a  great  part ; 
I  can  but  weep ;   I  need  a  heart  to  weep  on. 
Away! 

A    Mask. 

[Seeing  a  stout  lady  dressed  as  a  shepherdess.] 
That  shepherdess  has  eaten  her  flock! 

The    Bear. 
If  you'll  but  love  me — 

The  Chinese  Woman. 

You  will  sell  your  skin? 

A  Domino. 
[Passing  on  Gentz's  arm.] 
The  Viscount's  here  as  Doge  in  grand  dalmatic. 

G  e  N  TZ . 
Then  is  the  Baroness  the  Adriatic. 

The  Duke. 

[Who  has  scribbled  a  note;   to  a  Lackey.] 
This  for  my  lackeys.     I  shall  not  come  in. 
I'm  sleeping  at  the  hunting-lodge.     Make  haste! 
Let  me  have  word  they've  read  and  understood. 

The  La  cke  y. 

Nought  else,  my  Lord? 

[179] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

To-morrow  the  bay  mare. 

Fanny   Elssler. 
His  uniform  beneath  a — 

The   Duke. 

[Turning.] 

Violet  cloak. 
Prokesch !    I  said  your  note  was  from  a  woman ! 

Fanny. 
[Pointing  to  the  Attache,  who  has  followed  her.] 
Let  me  get  rid  of  this  importunate  mask. 
And  I'll  come  back. 

The   Duke. 

I'll  wait.     'Tis  fate.    I  yield. 
I'll  love,  with  stormy  April  in  my  heart. 
I'll  love — like  these — like  all ! 

BOMBELLES. 

[Who  has  come  m  with  Maria  Louisa.    She  sits  on 
the  stone  bench.] 

Was  he  in  love? 

Maria   Louisa. 

What !  must  you  still  be  harping  on  him  ? 

BOMBELLES. 

Yes. 
The   Duke. 

My  mother  and  Bombelles — ! 

BOMBELLES. 

Speak ! 

MariaLouisa. 

I  don't  know. 
He  was  intimidated  in  my  presence. 
Even  on  his  throne,  beneath  his  golden  laurels, 
He  felt  his  inequality  of  birth ; 

[  i8o  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

And  then,  to  keep  a  countenance,  he'd  call  me 
His  "  Good  Louisa."    Yes !  such  shocking  taste ! 
For  I  love  sentiment.    I  am  a  woman. 

BOMBELLES. 

And  queen  of  all ! 

Maria   Louisa. 

A  little  thing  I  said 
When  Saint  Aulaire  came  to  my  room  at  Blois 
With  news  of  his  disasters,  made  them  furious. 
I  was  in  bed.    My  naked  foot  peeped  out, 
And,  lying  on  the  polished  wood,  as  if 
Thomire  had  carved  it,  seemed  at  once  to  turn 
The  Medicean  bed  into  an  Empire  bed. 
And  seeing  the  Envoy  furtively  look  down, 
I  smiled  and  said,  "  You're  looking  at  my  foot." 
And  so  he  was.    In  spite  of  all  misfortunes, 
Indeed  the  man  was  looking  at  my  foot. 
Was  this  coquettish  ?    Well,  what  of  it  ?    Heavens  1 
Where  was  the  crime  if  I  remained  a  woman? 
For,  after  all,  amid  the  crash  of  France, 
The  beauty  of  my  foot  had  some  importance ! 

The   Duke. 
Would  I  could  fly !  but  I  am  glued  to  the  spot  f 

BOMBELLES. 

What's  the  grey  pebble  in  your  bracelet? 

Maria   Louisa. 

That? 
Ah,  I  can  never  see  it  without  tears. 

That  is  a  fragment — 

BOMBELLES. 

Of  the  Pyramids  ? 

Maria   Louisa. 
What  nonsense!    'Tis  a  fragment  of  the  tomb 
Where  Juliet  sleeps  beside  her  Romeo — 
I  had  this  souvenir — 

[i8i] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Bom  BELLES. 

For  pity's  sake 
Don't  mention  Neipperg ! 

Maria   Louisa. 

If  he  irritates  you. 
Why  speak  about  the  first? 

Bom  BELLES. 

That's  different. 
But  did  you  love  him? 

Maria    Louisa. 
Whom? 

Bom  BELLES. 

The — first. 

Maria   Lou  i  s  a. 

Again  ? 

BOMBELLES. 

So  great  a  man !    You  must — 

Maria   Louisa. 

Oh,  as  for  that, 
No  man  is  ever  loved  because  he's  great. 
Let's  talk  of  him  no  more:   let's  talk  of  us. 
Will  you  like  Parma? 

BOMBELLES. 

Tell  me,  was  he  jealous? 

Maria    Louisa. 
So  much  so  that  he  drove  away  Leroy, 
Because  the  poor  man-milliner  cried  out 
With  admiration  when  he  saw  my  shoulders. 
While  trying  on  a  peplum. 

BOMBELLES. 

Then  Napoleon— 

Maria  Louisa. 
Oh,  hush ! 

[182] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Bom  BELLES. 

Would  not  have  liked  to  hear  me  say 
How  fair  they  are  ?    Would  not  have  liked — 
Maria  Louisa, 

Bombelles ! 
Bom  belles. 

To  hear  me  whisper  to  your  Majesty — 

The  Duke. 

Father,  forgive  me  for  the  things  I  hear ! 

Bombelles. 
That  you  are  like  our  own  Arlesian  maids 
But,  ah  !  how  .much  more  beautiful ! — 

Maria  Louisa. 

Oh,  Charles! 
Bombelles. 

Would  not  have  liked  to  see  me  .bend  and  press — 

The  Duke. 

[Breaking  in  upon  them.] 

Not  that !    I  will  not  have  it !     I  forbid  you ! — 

Thank  God,  I'm  saved! 

Maria  Louisa. 
Franz ! 

The  Duke. 

For  this  cry,  this  movement 
Were  not  my  own.    Within  me  still  remains 
A  reverence  for  my  mother  and  her  freedom ! 
'Twas  he — 'Twas  he  by  whom  my  soul's  possessed, 
Who  sprang  upon  you  with  this  tragic  force ! 
Thank  God  1    I'm  saved  !    The  Corsican  leapt  out ! 

Bombelles. 

Sir—! 

T  H  e  D  u.k  e  . 

Nothing,  sir! 

[To  Maria  Louisa.] 

My  humble  duty.  Madam ! 

[  183  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Return  to  Sala,  spend  your  days  in  peace. 
The  castle  has  two  wings,  as  I  am  told : 
One  is  a  theatre  and  one  a  chapel. 
Thus  dwelling  in  the  middle,  you  shall  feel 
Evenly  balanced  'twixt  the  world  and  God. 
My  humble  duty ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
Franz ! 

The   Duke. 

Why,  truly,  Madam, 
It's  your  prerogative  to  be  mere  woman. 
Go,  be  a  woman  in  the  Sala  palace ; 
But  tell  yourself,  Ah !   tell  yourself — and  this 
Shall  be  your  sad  atonement  for  his  glory. 
Widow  who  cast  aside  her  widow's  weeds ! — 
Tell  yourself  this  :   Men  only  gaze  upon  you 
For  the  immortal  fame  he  robed  you  in. 
And  only  whisper  praises  of  your  beauty 
Because  of  old  he  conquered  all  the  world ! 

IMaria   Louisa. 
I'll  hear  no  more !    Bombelles,  let  us  begone ! 

The    Duke. 
Return  to  Sala.    I  am  saved.    Thank  God ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
Farewell ! 

The   Duke. 

O  hands,  cold  hands  within  the  tomb. 
Sad  hands  because  the  Imperial  ring  slipped  from  you, 
Hands  that  have  held  her  brow  who  years  ago 
Shed  bitter  tears  that  I  was  not  her  son, 
Hands  laid  in  blessing  on  my  orphaned  soul, 
Weeping  I  kiss  you,  hands  of  Josephine ! 

Maria    Louisa. 
The  Creole!    Do  you  think  at  Malmaison — ? 

[  184  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

Silence !    If  it  be  true,  all  the  more  reason ! 

All  the  more  reason  why  I  should  be  faithful ! 
[Maria  Louisa  and  Bombelles  go  out.] 
[Enter  Metternich  and  Sedlnizky.] 

Metternich. 
[To  Sedlnizky.] 
Yes,  yes;    I  humbled  that  rebellious  child! 

[He  sees  the  Duke.] 
You  here?    And  in  this  uniform?    What  means? 

The   Duke, 
Were  we  not  asked  to  come  here  in — disguise? 

Sedlnizky. 
The  pride  your  Excellency  broke  last  night 
Even  in  its  fragments  keeps  its  insolence. 

[To  the  Duke.] 
What  are  you  dreaming  of,  far  from  the  ball. 
My  little  Colonel? 

The   Duke. 

Of  my  Little  Corporal ! 

Metternich. 
[On  the  point  of  breaking  out.] 
Oh,  I— 

[Mastering  himself.] 

But  I  must  go  to  my  despatches. 
'Tis  all  to  do  again ! 

[He  and  Sedlnizky  go  out.] 
[Enter  Fanny  Elssler.] 

Fanny. 
Prince ! 

The  Duke. 

No!  that  woman! 
I  will  not — ! 

[185] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Fanny, 
[Unmasking.] 

Fly? 

The   Duke. 
[Recognising  her.] 

Fanny ! 

Fanny. 

The  plot! 

The   Duke. 

What's  that? 
Fanny. 

I'm  in  it.    Let  me  tell  you — 

The   Duke. 
Ah! 

Fanny. 

Look  innocent. 
Sit  down.    Pretend  you're  very  much  in  love. 
You  on  the  rock.    I  on  the  Neptune's  head. 

[Speaking  to  the  stone  head.] 
May  I  sit  down,  good  Neptune  ? 

The    Stone    Head. 

If  you  like. 
Only  I  warn  you,  it's  all  over  ants. 

Fanny. 
Lord !    Neptune's  talking ! 

The   Duke. 
[Understanding  and  remembering.] 

Ah !   beneath  the  ivy ! 

Flambeau. 
The  entrance  to  my  cavern  through  an  ant-heap. 

The   Duke. 
You!  Flambeau! 

[  186  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau 
In  the  cave  of  Rob — 

Masks. 

Ho  hi! 
Fanny. 
Hush!  Masks! 

Masks. 

Oh,  very  funny ! 

[They  pass  out,] 

Flambeau. 

— inson  Crusoe! 
The   Duke. 
What!   Since  last  night? 

Flambeau. 

Oh,  yes ;   I  smoke  my  pipe — 

The   Duke. 

There  in  the  hole  ? 

Flambeau. 

You  copied  from  the  beggar 
Who  first  invented  bearskins,  so  they  say, 
And  had  a  funny  Mameluke  called  Friday. 

The   Duke. 
I  cannot  find  the  spot. 

Flambeau. 

It's  on  the  right. 
Here,  where  I  blow  a  cloud  out  of  my  pipe. 

Fanny. 
The  small  Vesuvius ! 

The   Duke. 
You  must  be — 

Flambeau. 

Uncomfortable. 

But  then — I  said  you'd  find  me  at  the  ball. 

[187] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Fanny. 
If  they  should  catch  us  talking  to  a  smoke! 

Flambeau. 
Ouch! 

The    Duke. 
What's  the  matter.? 

Flambeau. 

An  attack  of  ants. 
Since  yesterday  we've  had  the  bloodiest  battles. 

Fanny. 
But— 

Flambeau. 

They  outnumber  me,  but  I've  tobacco. 

I  blow  a  blast — 

The   Duke. 

You  bring  your  heavy  guns? 

Flambeau. 
May  I  lift  up  my  rock  a  bit  ? 

The   Duke. 
Yes. 

Flambeau. 
[Seeing  Masks  approaching.] 

Nuns ! 

The   Duke   and   Fanny, 
Hush! 

Flambeau. 

Now  I  look  as  if  I  took  the  air 

On  the  tomb's  balcony. 

The   Duke. 

And  in  the  moon 
Beside  the  urn,  uplifting  thus  the  stone. 
You're  rising  to  the  ghostly  night-review. 

Flambeau. 
I'm  very  hungry, 

[188] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Fa  n  n  y. 
Hush! 

The   Duke. 
[To  some  Servants  who  enter  hearing  dishes.^ 

What's  that  you  carry? 
[The  Servants  stop.     The  Duke  takes  a  little  of 
everything.] 

Thank  you. 

Fanny. 
[Stopping  them.] 

One  moment. 

[She  takes  what  is  left.    The  Servants  pass  out.] 

The    Duke. 
[Giving  Flambeau  the  cakes.] 

Take  them. 

Flambeau. 

Enough. 
My  strength  returns. 
[To  Fanny.] 

Explain.     We've  little  time. 

Fanny. 
[Nervously.] 

Well,  then — the  Countess — she  is  here — the  Countess — 

That's  how  my  nerve  goes  when  I  have  to  dance — 

She  wears  beneath  a  russet  cloak  your  uniform, 

With  which  the  Eaglet's  turned  into  a  sea-mew. 

She  was  already  like  you  in  the  face, 

But  since  she's  dyed  her  sable  tresses  fair 

Your  glass  could  not  distinguish  you  from  her. 

So,  while  they  play  their  "  Michel  and  Christine," 

You'll  change  your  mantle  quickly  with  your  cousin — 

The   Duke. 
Put  on  a  mask — ! 

Fanny. 

And  disappear  like  magic ! 

[  189  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 
My  double  takes  my  place — 

Fanny. 

And  openly 
Leaves  the  assembly — 

The  Duke. 

Sets  me  free  of  spies — 

Fanny. 
Goes  home  to  Schonbrunn — 

The  Duke. 

Locks  the  door  with  care — 

Fanny. 

Forgets  to  wake — 

T  h  E   D  u  K  E  . 

Till  I  am  miles  away. 

Only— 

Fanny. 

What  "only"  is  there? 

The  Duke. 

Quite  a  big  one. 
Suppose  the  false  Duke's  spoken  to  ? 

Fanny. 

Impossible. 
It's  all  stage-managed  like  a  ballet.     Ladies 
Will  flutter  round  him,  keep  intruders  off, 
And  as  a  ball  from  racket  flies  to  racket 
He'll  pass  from  hand  to  hand  until  he's  safe. 

Masks. 
[Running  across  at  the  back.] 

Who  is  the  wolf?    Wow!    Wow!    Who  is  the  bear? 
There !    There ! 

Fanny. 
You  leave  the  Gardens — 

[  190] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

By  the  Hietzing  gate — 

Fanny. 
No. 

T  H  E     D  U  K  E. 

Where,  then? 

Fanny. 

Listeners.     I  fan  myself. 
Glance  at  your  humble  servant's  pretty  fan. 

The   Duke. 

What  for? 

Fanny, 

I've  drawn  a  sketch-map  of  the  park. 

Observe  the  road  ;  it's  red ;  it  makes  a  bend  ; 

Do  you  see  ?    The  little  squares  of  white  are  statues ; 

The  little  dots  of  apple-green  are  trees ; 

Thus  you  elude  the  evil-minded  spies ; 

Turn  to  the  left ;  pass  by  the  pheasantry — 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E. 
What  are  the  scratches? 

Fanny. 

Where  the  hill  goes  up. 
Then  you  go  down  again ;   pass  by  the  Triton 
And  come  out  Emperor  at  this  little  gate. 
All  clearly  understood  ? — I  shut  my  fan. 

The   Duke. 
Emperor ! 

F  Iv'A  M  B  E  A  u . 
That's  right.    Get  out  your  robes  and  crown! 
Don't  go  so  fast ! 

The  Duke. 
What's  at  the  gate? 

Fa  n  n  y. 

A  cab 

[  191  ] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
A  cab? 

Fanny. 

With  spanking  horses ;  have  no  fear. 

The   Duke. 
Where  does  it  take  me  ? 

Fanny. 

To  the  rendezvous. 

The   Duke. 
Where's  that  ? 

Fan  n  y. 

Out  of  your  way,  but  so  the  Countess 

Would  have  it: — Wagram. 

The   Duke. 

What  a  Bonaparte! 

Fan  NY. 
Well  ?    Are  you  pleased  ? 

The   Duke. 

Dear  little  Tanagra^ 
I'll  recompense  your  zeal — 

Fa  n  n  y. 

Ungrateful  monster! 

The   Duke. 
And  Prokesch? 

Fanny. 

He'll  be  waiting  for  you  there. 

The   Duke. 
The  only  man  whose  eye  we  had  to  fear — 
Prince  Metternich — has  left.    All  will  go  well. 

Flambeau. 
Metternich  gone !    You  never  said  a  word ! 

The   Duke. 
Well— 

[  192] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
And  you  let  me  catch  my  death,  beneath 
This  beastly  urn — ! 

Fanny. 

Masks  coming! 

Masks. 

Sandor !    Zichy ! 

It's  Thalberg ! — Never ! — Thalberg  is  a  Turk  ! 

It's  Cocica !— Not  he !— He's  fled !— Oh !   catch  him ! 

Flambeau. 
Gone? 

The   Duke   and   Fanny. 

Gone.    . 

Flambeau. 

[Emerging,  dressed  as  in  the  previous  act.] 

Then — - 

The    Duke    and    Fanny. 
Are  you  mad? 

Flambeau. 

We'll  shut  the  trap. 
The   Duke. 
But  if  they  see  you — ! 

Fanny. 

Vanish!     This  is  frightful! 

The   Duke. 
What  will  they  say? 

Flambeau. 

I'll  tell  you  what  they'll  say — 

Masks. 
[Seeing  Flambeau.] 
And  this  one  !    Oh  !   a  veteran  of  the  Empire ! 

Flambeau. 
[To  the  Duke.] 
Well,  there  you  are,  you  see !    That's  what  they'll  say. 

[  193] 


L'A  I  G  L  O  N 

Masks. 
Capital !    Capital ! 

Flambeau. 
I  take  my  ease. 

A  Mask. 
[To  another. "[ 

Come  and  admire  the  veteran ! 

The  Other. 

First  rate! 
Third   Mask. 
Look  at  his  earrings! 

FouRT  H   Mask. 

And  his  bushy  eyebrows! 
Flambeau. 
But  how  shall  I  get  out  without  a  cloak? 

Fanny. 
Here's  Gentz's  ticket:    such  a  handsome  mantle. 

A   Mask. 
Hail,  Veteran ! 

Flambeau. 
The  honor's  mine. 
[The  Usher  enters,  followed  by  Servants  who 
push  on  orange-trees,  the  boxes  laid  as  tables.] 

The  Usher. 

Make  room! 
The  Lackey. 
[Who  took  the  Duke's  note.] 
They  understand,  my  Lord.     The  hunting-lodge. 

Fanny. 
What's  that? 

T  h  e  Du  ke. 
I  had  forgotten.    I  gave  orders — 
I  was  to  spend  the  night  there.    Warn  the  Countess. 
Run!    Run  and  say  'tis  thither  she  must  go! 
[Fanny  goes  out  quickly.] 

[  194] 


%■ 

n 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

A   Mask. 
[To  Flambeau.] 
Well,  Sergeant?    So  you  served — 

Flambeau. 

The  gr-reat — 

Several   Masks. 
[Laughing.]  The  gr-reat! 

Flambeau. 

They  didn't  laugh  when  we  were  quartered  on  'em! 

Exclamations, 

A  picture  by  Raffet! — Charlet! — Vernet! 

Several   Masks. 
How    worn    his    coat    is ! — And    how    singed ! — And 

dusty ! — 
Who's  your  costumier? — Tell  us! 

Flambeau. 

They  are  ladies : — 

The  ancient  firm  of  War  and  Victory  Sisters. 

A  Mask. 
That's  good. 

Flambeau. 

It's  not  the  firm  you  patronize. 

First   Mask. 
I'll  swear  it's  Zichy. 

[Offering  his  hand.] 

Count,  your  hand. 

Flambeau. 

[Blowing  a  puff  of  smoke  in  his  face.] 

Get  out. 
First   Mask. 
[Going  out,  to  the  others.] 
He's  masked  his  language  as  he's  masked  his  face. 

Flambeau. 
[Singing.] 

When  we  marched  to  Krasnoi, 

Cold  and  hungry,  too,  were  we! 
[195] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

A  Mask. 
He's  really  excellent.    In  Russia,  old  'un, 
'Twas  pretty  cold? 

Flambeau. 

Yes ;  till  we  gave  'em  hell. 
[Sings.] 

By  Jingo,  but  it  keeps  you  warm 

Merely  to  see  his  uniform! 

A  Mask. 
His  uniform  wants  patching  now,  though;   what? 

Flambeau. 
So  did  your  breeches  when  he'd  kicked  you ;   what  ? 

Several. 
Ha!    Very  funny! 

First   Mask. 
Natural. 

Second   Mask. 
Exact. 

Third   Mask. 
But  doubtful  taste. 

The  Usher. 

The  comedy's  begun! 

Fanny. 
[To  the  Duke.] 
I'm  back  again.    The  Countess  understands. 

Flambeau. 
[To  Theresa.] 
Will  you  accept  a  veteran's  arm? 

Theresa. 

No. 

Flambeau. 

Why? 

[196I 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Theresa. 
I'm  leaving,  sir.    Apart  from  that,  I'm  French, 
And  see  no  humor  in  a  parody 
Of  heroes  whom  by  chance  you  conquered. 

Flambeau.  You 

Ah!    I  adore  you! 

[She  runs  away.  Just  as  she  is  disappearing  the 
Duke  makes  a  movement  toward  her.~\ 

The   Duke. 
Ah !— the  tryst. 

Theresa. 

The  tryst—? 
The   Duke. 
No— nothing. 

[Theresa  passes  on.] 

She  must  keep  it.    She  must  show 
Whether  she  would  have  been  sublimely  weak, 
And  given  herself  unthinking — without  hope — 
Only  because  she  saw  me  sad  to-night. 

Fanny. 
[To  Flambeau.] 
Watch  where  they've  got  to  in  the  comedy. 

[Flambeau  goes  to  the  entrance  of  the  theatre.] 

[To  the  Duke.] 
The  time  has  come. 

Flambeau. 

All  eyes  are  running  over 
With  grief  for  Stanislas,  the  mournful  Pole. 

Fanny. 
Here  is  the  Countess,  Duke. 

The   Duke. 

My  very  image! 
I'm  coming  toward  myself  as  in  a  glass. 

[The  Countess  Camerata  enters,  dressed  ex- 
actly like  the  Duke,  with  the  exception  of  her 
cloak,  which  is  brown.] 

[197] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Countess. 
Well  met,  Napoleon! 

The  Duke. 

And  Napoleone! 

The  Countess. 
I'm  very  calm — and  you? 

The  Duke. 

I  see  the  risks 
You'll  run  for  my  sake. 

The   Countess. 

Not  for  your  sake. 

The  Duke. 


Ah? 


The  Countess. 
No !    For  the  name,  the  glory,  and  our  blood ! 

The   Duke. 
You  bravely  clash  your  arms,  fair  Amazon! 

The  Countess. 
The  deed  were  nothing,  were  it  done  for  love. 

The   Duke. 
Speaking  of  love,  if,  when  you've  taken  my  place 
In  yonder  hunting-lodge,  by  any  chance 
A  woman  came — 

The  Countess. 

Ah!    I  felt  sure  of  it! 

The   Duke. 
Tell  her  about  my  flight — and  swear  to  me — 

Flambeau. 
[At  the  entrance  to  the  theatre,  describing  the  play.] 
The  soldier  holds  his  tongue ! 

The  Countess. 
Grood. 

[198] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

Doesn't  murmur. 
The   Duke. 
Swear  you  will  tell  me  later  if  she  comes. 

The   Countess. 
Thinking  of  hearts,  when  Empire  is  at  hand ! 

The   Duke. 
It  is  because  I  mount  a  throne  to-morrow 
I  lay  such  value  on  a  heart  to-night. 

0  God!   to  feel  respect  in  every  kiss, 
Snares  in  avowals,  in  embraces  dread, 

And  in  fair  eyes,  more  dazzled  than  in  love, 
See  laurel-wreaths  about  me  as  on  coins ! 

1  was  to  pluck  my  last  real  love  to-night! 

Flambeau. 
[As  before.] 

He's  telling  them  about  his  pocket-book. 

The   Duke. 
I  would  she  kept  this  white  and  spotless  tryst, 
She  who  has  not  yet  studied  to  dissemble ; 
'Twere  well  she  came,  for  nevermore,  perchance. 
Whatever  later  trysts  I  yet  may  keep. 
Shall  I  be  waiting  with  such  eager  love, 
As  at  the  tryst  to-night  I  may  not  keep. 

The   Countess. 
I  find  your  Highness  very  deeply  stirred. 

The    Duke. 
Less  than  I  shall  be  if  you  say  "  She  came." 

Flambeau. 
[As  before.] 

We  must  make  haste,  for  with  his  eyes  turned  up. 

He's  singing  something  to  his  colonel. 

The   Countess. 

Change ! 

[199] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
Wait  for  the  signal.    Have  no  fear;  I'm  watching. 
Attention !    By  the  magic  of  my  wand  ! 

The   Countess. 
Think  well !    Perhaps  you  turn  him  into  Caesar ! 

Flambeau. 
That's  why  my  wand  is  fashioned  of  a  ramrod. 

[Noise  of  people  leaving  the  theatre.] 
They're  coming !    Now  ! 

[The  Duke  and  the  Countess  exchange  cloaks.] 

Masks   and   Dominos. 
[Entering.] 

They've  dressed  the  orange-trees! 

All. 
Oh! 

Fanny. 
[To  the  Duke,  pointing  to  the  Countess.] 

There's  our  swarm  of  women  buzzing  round  him. 

Ladies. 
[Around  the  false  Duke.] 
Prince! — Duke — !    My  Lord — !    Your  Highness — ! 

G  E  N  T  z  . 

No  one  else 
Has  any  chance  to-night ! 

Cries. 

[From  the  tables.] 

Sandor !    Zichy !    Mina  I 

The    Domino    called    Mina. 

How  did  you  know  me  ? 

A   Mask. 

By  your  opal  necklace. 

Another   Mask. 
We'll  gather  oranges  for  our  dessert. 

[  200  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

A  Lady. 
[To  the  false  Duke,] 

Masks. 
Danube  sterlets !    Caviar  from  the  Volga  I 
[All  are  seated.] 

Ge  NTZ. 

[Rising,  glass  in  hand.] 
Ladies  and  gentlemen — 

All. 

Hear !    Hear ! 

The   Duke. 

Now  come. 
The  trying  moment. 

Gentz. 

I  have  filled  this  bumper 
In  honor — 

The   Duke. 

She  is  going — 

Gentz. 

Of  our  friend, 
Who,  having  organized  the  feast,  has  left  us 
Amid  the  music,  flowers,  delicious  ices, 
To  toil  till  dawn  dictating  his  despatches. 

Fanny. 
How  well  she  imitates  your  careless  stride ! 

Gentz. 
To  the  Prince-chancellor,  Counsellor,  Chamberlain, 
Ladies  and  gentlemen,  drain  brimming  glasses ! 
Metternich,  Austrian  Prince,  Grandee  of  Spain, 
Duke  of  Portella,  Lord  of  Daruvar — 

Fanny. 
She's  coming  forward !    Look  how  calm  she  is ! 

Gentz. 
Knight  of  Saint  Ann — 

[20I  ] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

Fanny, 

He  helps  us  with  his  chatter, 
And  doesn't  know  it. 

Ge  N  TZ , 
Knight  o'  the  Swedish  Seraphs, 
The  Danish  Elephant,  the  Golden  Fleece — 

Flambeau. 
If  Nepomuk  has  one  or  two  more  titles — 

G  E  N  T  z. 
Curator  of  the  Fine  Arts,  Czechish  Magnate — 

The   Duke. 
She's  over-doing  it :   I  move  more  quickly. 

G  E  N  T  Z  , 

Bailiff  of  Malta— 

The   Duke. 
Ha!   She  stops! 

G  E  N  TZ. 

Grand  Cross 
Of  Charles  the  Third,  the  Falcon,  Bear,  and  Lion — 
Phew—! 

The   Archduchess. 
[To  the  Lady  seated  next  to  Gentz.] 

He's  fainting !    Fan  him  quickly,  someone ! 

Gentz. 
Fellow  of  all  the  Academies  on  earth — I 

All. 
Hurrah ! 

Flambeau. 
And  while  they  clash  their  glasses.  Prince, 
She's  starting — she  has  started — 

The   Archduchess. 
[To  the  false  Duke.] 

Franz!    Not  going? 

[  202  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
All's  lost! 

Flambeau. 
Damnation ! 

The   Archduchess. 

[To  the  false  Duke.] 

Wait ! 

T  H  E     DU  KE. 

The  Archduchess 
Knew  nothing  of  the  plot — 

The   Archduchess. 

You  grieved  me,  Franz; 
Just  now  you — 

[She  recognizes  the  Countess.] 
Ah! 

T  H  e    D  U  K  e. 

All's  lost. 

The   Archduchess. 

But— 
[Offering  her  hand  to  the  Countess.] 

Well,  good-night. 

The   Countess. 
Ah,  Madam — How — ? 

The   Archduchess. 

Why  don't  you  kiss  my  hand  ? 
[The  Countess  goes  out.] 

A   Mask. 
The  Duke  already  gone  ? 

Another. 

He's  whimsical. 

Th  e    Du  KE. 
[Meaningly,  to  the  Archduchess.] 
Your  hand — as  to  the  Duke  ? 

[203] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Archduchess. 

Yes,  gentle  mask. 

Gen  Tz. 
And  now — 

Several. 
Again  ? 

G  E  N  T  z  . 
One  word — 

Voices. 

Oh,  go  ahead  1 
Gentz. 

I  wanted  to  complete  my  little  toast. 

But  while  the  Duke  was  here  I  couldn't  name 

The  proudest  title  Metternich  can  boast  of ; 

But  now  we're  rid  of  him,  I  have  the  honor : — 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  here's  the  destroyer 

Of  Bonaparte ! 

All. 

Hurrah! — To  the  Destroyer! 

The   Duke. 
[To  Flambeau.] 
What  are  you  doing? 

Flambeau. 
[Who  is  pouring  his  wine  into  his  gun-barrel] 

Lest  it  might  go  off ! 

A   Mask. 
This  Bonaparte — 

Second    Mask. 
Wasn't  marble. 

Third   Mask. 

Stucco. 
The   Duke. 


What! 


Flambeau. 
Have  a  care !    An  Empire  is  at  stake ! 

[204] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

A    Mask. 
Much  overpraised — 

Flambeau. 
Take  care! 

TiBURTIUS. 

A  middling  soldier, 
But  then  he  rode  a  camel  while  in  Egypt ; 
What  more  do  you  want? 

A   Mask. 

Gentz  imitates  him. 

Flambeau. 

Lord! 

Another   Mask. 
Do  it! 

Flambeau. 

[To  the  Duke.] 

Remember,  you're  not  here  at  all ! 

Gentz. 
[Arranging  his  hair,  and  striking  the  conventional  at- 
titude.] 
Curl — eye — hand — There ! 

Flam  beau. 

Old  fool ! 

The   Duke. 

He  mocks  him,  yet 
Even  the  mockery's  great,  for  it  evokes  him. 

TiBURTIUS. 

You  know  he  used  to  tumble  off  his  horse? 

Flambeau. 
That's  what  the  Ultras  always  said  about  him. 

A   Mask. 
His  talk  was  poor. 

L205] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
Go  on ! 

The   Duke. 

Oh,  that's  the  rule. 
What  could  these  worms  and  insects  talk  about 
If  they  had  not  the  eagle  to  abuse? 

TiBURTIUS. 

His  name  was  not  Napoleon  at  all. 

Flambeau. 
What! 

TiBURTIUS. 

That  was  manufactured.    It's  so  simple ! 
You  want  to  make  a  sounding  name — 

Flambeau. 

You  idiot! 

TiBURTIUS. 

Which  shall  creep  into  history  by  and  by : 

Take  three  bright,  simple  vowels  :   Na — po — le — 

And  add  a  nasal  sound :    On — 

A    M  A  s  K  .  • 

Wonderful ! 

TiBURTIUS. 

Yes :    Na — po — le,  the  lightning ;   On,  the  thunder. 
Flambeau. 


That's  all ! 


Why,  no. 


A    Mask. 
What  was  his  name  ? 

TiBURTIUS. 

What?    Don't  you  know? 
A    Mask. 

TiBURTIUS. 

His  name  was  Nicholas. 
[206] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
[Bursting  out.] 

Be  damned! 

Several   Masks. 

[Laughing.] 

Bravo  the  Veteran ! 

Ge  NTZ. 

[To  Flambeau.] 

Nicholas! — Have  a  quail. 

Flambeau. 
[Taking  the  dish.] 
But  Nicholas  was  good  at  winning  battles. 

A    Mask. 
And  what  a  funny  court  he  scraped  together! 

Second   Mask. 
If  you  talked  titles,  pedigrees,  precedence, 
There  wasn't  a  soul  who  had  a  word  to  say. 

Flambeau. 
Wasn't  Cambronne  at  Court  to  say  the  word? 

A    Mask. 
But — in  war — 

Flambeau. 
Oh—! 

Second   Mask. 

What  did  he  do? 

Another   Mask. 

Why,  wrote  reports. 
A    M  as  K. 
And  always  stood  about  on  distant  hills. 

Flambeau. 
By  God—! 

The   Duke. 

Hush! 

[  207  ] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

TiBURTIUS. 

Once  a  ball  was  good  enough 
To  wound  him  in  the  foot  at  Ratisbon: 
Enough  to  make  a  subject  for  a  picture, . 

Flambeau. 
[To  the  Duke.] 

Be  calm — ! 

The   Duke. 

Be  calm — ! 

Flambeau. 

Just  take  away  this  knife. 

TiBURTIUS. 

In  short — 

The   Duke. 

He'd  best  be  careful  what  he  says. 

Flambeau. 
You  must  put  up  with  it ! 

The   Duke. 

Not  for  an  Empire ! 

TiBURTIUS. 

In  short  this  hero  was — 

Flambeau. 

Take  care!    Take  care! 

TiBURTIUS. 

He  was  a  coward. 

The   Duke. 
Oh! 

The   French   Attache. 

No!    That's  a  lie! 

All. 
Eh?    What? 

TiBURTIUS. 

What's  that? 
[  208] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

All. 

Who  spoke? 

Gentz. 

I  love  a  quarrel ! 
Flambeau. 
Aha !    Thank  God,  there  was  a  man  among  them ! 

TiBURTIUS. 

Who  dared — ? 

The   Attache. 
I  dared,  sir! 

Gentz. 

He's  the  Attache 
Of  the  French  Embassy. 

TiBURTIUS. 

You  challenge  me! 
You  represent  the  King,  sir ! 

Gentz. 

Quite  amusing! 

The   Attache. 
The  King  is  not  in  question,  but  my  country. 
You  are  insulting  France,  when  you  insult 
The  man  she  loved  through  many  glorious  years. 

TiBURTIUS. 

Buonaparte — 

The   Attache. 
Please  say  Bonaparte. 

TiBURTIUS. 

Well,  Bonaparte — 

The   Attache. 
The  Emperor! 

TiBURTIUS. 

Your  card? 
[209] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
[Who  has  disappeared  for  a  moment,  and  has  come 
back  cloaked.] 

Come !    I've  got  Gentz's  cloak.    It's  lined  with  fur. 

[TiBURTius  and  the  Attache  have  exchanged 
cards.  Tiburtius  steps  forward  and  nervously 
lights  a  cigar.] 

Tiburtius. 
[To  a  Lackey.] 
A  light. 

The   Lackey. 
You  hate  the  Corsican  ? 

Tiburtius. 

What's  that? 
The   Lackey, 
Your  sister  loves  his  son.    Would  you  surprise  them? 

Tiburtius. 
When? 

The   Lackey. 
Now. 

Tiburtius. 
Where? 

The    Lackey. 

Where  I  know— 

Tiburtius. 

Wait  for  me  here, 
Austria  shall  be  relieved. 

The   Duke. 
[Placing  his  hand  on  the  Attache's  shoulder.} 

I  thank  you,  sir. 

The   Attache. 
[Turning.] 

What  for,  sir? 

[  2IO  ] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Hush. 

The   Attache. 
The  Duke ! 

The   Duke. 


The   Attache 


A  plot. 

Amazement ! 


The   Duke. 
I've  nothing  but  my  secret.    Now  it's  yours. 
We  meet  to-night  at  Wagram,    Be  there. 

The   Attache. 

I! 
The   Duke. 
Are  you  not  one  of  us  ? 

The   Attache. 

I  am  the  King's. 

The   Duke. 
But  you're  to  fight  a  duel  for  my  Father. 
And  so  we're  somewhat  brothers.    Fare-you-well. 

TheAttache. 
You  hope  to  win  me? 

The   Duke. 

I  am  sure  to  win  you. 
Did  not  my  Sire  win  Philippe  de  Segur? 

The   Attache. 
To-morrow  I  return  to  France.    I  warn  you — 

The   Duke. 
You  are  a  future  Marshal  of  the  Empire. 

TheAttache. 
I  warn  you,  if  my  regiment  meets  yours 
I  shall  not  hesitate  to  fire. 

[211] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

Of  course  not. 
Shake  hands  before  we  cut  each  other's  throats. 

The   Attache. 
If  you  have  any  messages  for  Paris, 
I  get  there  on  the  fourth ;  I  should  be  happy— 

The   Duke. 
I  hope  to  be  there,  sir,  ahead  of  you. 

The  Attache. 
Yet,  if  I  reach  the — kingdom — ere  you  come? 

The   Duke. 
Salute  for  me  the  Column  of  Vendftme ! 

Curtain. 


[212  J 


THE   FIFTH   ACT 

The  battlefield  of  Wagram.  Night.  A  small  hill  run- 
ning off  toward  the  left.  A  signpost  stands  on 
the  hill. 

The  Duke  is  standing  on  the  summit  of  the  hill  gazing 
across  the  battlefield.  Prokesch  and  Flambeau 
are  talking  together  in  undertones  near  the  front. 

Flambeau. 

WAGRAM ! 
The   Duke. 
[Dreaming.] 
"  My  son  shall  reign — a  mighty  sovereign — " 

Flambeau. 
Capital  bit  of  country  for  the  harvest. 

The   Duke. 
"  His  task  to  foster  whatsoe'er  is  good."  ' 

Flambeau. 
What  solemn  prayer  is  he  reciting? 

Prokesch. 

Hush ! 

The   Duke. 

"  Complete  my  work,  and  not  avenge  my  death — 

All  patriots—" 

[To  Prokesch.] 

The  horses? 

I213] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Prokesch. 

No,  not  yet. 

The   Duke. 
"  He  would  but  ape  me,  if  he  made  great  wars — " 

Prokesch. 
He  is  rehearsing  all  his  Father's  counsels. 

Flambeau. 
Hush! 

The   Duke. 
"  He  shall  scorn  all  parties — " 

[To  Prokesch.] 

Well  ?    The  horses. 

Prokesch. 
Too  soon,  my  Lord. 

The   Duke. 

Like  an  impatient  lover 
I've  come  too  early  to  my  tryst  with  France. 

[He  takes  a  fezv  strides  and  finds  himself  in  front 
of  a  sign-post.] 
Their  sign-post !    Is  it  true  that  I  shall  move 
Unhindered  by  their  hideous  black  and  yellow  ? 
How  good  to  read  upon  the  gleaming  white 
"  Road  to  Saint  Cloud  "  instead  of  "  Grosshofen." 
Grosshofen  ?    Now  I  think  of  it,  I  ordered 
My  regiment  to  Grosshofen  at  dawn. 

Flambeau. 
What! 

The   Duke. 
Yes ;   I  gave  the  order  yesterday, 
Before  I  knew. 

Flambeau. 
We  shall  be  far  away. 
[An  old  man  comes  out  of  the  cottage.'] 

The   Duke. 
Who's  that? 

[214] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
He's  ours.    His  hut  our  meeting-place. 
Old  soldier.    Shows  the  battle-field  to  strangers. 

The   Old   Man. 
There— on  the  left— 

Flambeau. 

No,  thanks.    I  know  it. 

The   Duke. 

Why 

Does  he  serve  us? 

The   Old   Man. 

I  was  dying  yonder ; 
The  great  Napoleon  passed — 

The   Duke. 

He  always  rode. 
Over  a  battle-field. 

The   Old   Man. 

The  Emperor  stopped 
And  had  me  cared  for  by  his  leach — 

The   Duke. 

Ivan. 

The   Old   Man. 

So,  if  his  son  is  weary  of  Vienna, 

I'll  help  him  go. — My  arm — before  his  eyes! 

Flambeau. 
It  isn't  everybody  has  the  honor 
Of  having  limbs  off  in  Napoleon's  presence. 

The   Old   Man. 
'Twas  war-time ;  so  we  fought. 

Flambeau. 

We  died. 

The   Old   Man. 

We  died. 

[215] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 


We  marched. 


The  Old  Man. 
We  marched. 

Fla  m  be au. 

We  fired  into  the  haze. 

The  Old   Man. 


We  fired. 


Flambeau. 
Some  grimy  officer  rode  up, 
And  roared,  "  We've  conquered !  " 

The   Old   Man. 

So  he  roared  to  us. 

Flambeau. 
What?— So  he  did. 

[Pointing  to  the  Duke.] 

Suppose  he  heard ! 

The   Duke. 

I  hear. 
The   Old   Man. 
Bah !    My  geraniums  flourish. 

Flambeau. 

Shouldn't  wonder. 
For  on  this  spot  eleven  drummer-boys — 

The   Duke. 
Eleven  drummer-boys — ? 

Flambeau. 

I  see  them  now! 
Eleven  bullet-heads,  as  like  as  peas. 
Between  the  flapping  of  their  foolish  ears, 
Who  marched,  they  knew  not  whence,  nor  why,  nor 

whither, 
But  gayly  marched  and  rolled  their  rataplan ! 
We  used  to  chaff  them,  for  their  funny  ways 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Made  them  the  darlings  of  the  sutler's  wife. 

But  when  they  beat  the  charge  like  little  rabbits — 

Eleven  drums  with  two-and-twenty  sticks — 

They  set  our  bayonets  thrilling  with  their  thunder ; 

The  quivering  zigzags  seemed  to  cry  aloud, 

"  Our  lightning's  not  in  vain !  " — Well,  on  this  spot, 

A  brazen  devil  hiccoughed  fire  and  steel 

And  took  them  in  the  flank  ;  yes  !  all  the  eleven ! 

But,  by  the  Lord !  you  should  have  seen  the  woman ! 

She  gathered  up  her  apron  like  a  gleaner. 

And  madly  gleaned  the  little  ebony  drumsticks. 

[He  clears  his  throat.] 
Only  to  speak  of  it  gives  me  a  cold — ! 

[He  picks  a  red  geranium.] 
Here's  how  to  make  a  mere  geranium 
A  ribbon  of  the  Legion :   keep  one  petal. 
What?    You  look  well  upon  my  velvet  lining? 

[To  the  Duke.] 
Is  this  what  you  bestowed  upon  me,  Sire? 

The   Duke. 
I  gave  a  phantom — 

Flambeau. 

And  I  wear  a  flower  1 

The   Duke. 
[Seeing  the  conspirators  enter.] 
Those  shadows — ? 

M  AR  M  O  NT. 

Friends. 


[Turning.] 


The   Duke. 

Marmont  ? 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T  , 

Good  luck,  my  Lord  I 
[217] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Why  do  the  others  stand  so  far  away  ? 

M  AR  M  o  N  T. 

Because  they  fear  they  may  disturb  your  Highness, 
And,  Sire,  you  are  already  Emperor! 

The   Duke. 
The  word  strikes  strangely  on  my  wondering  ear — 
The  Emperor!    What  Emperor  is  here? 

This  youth  of  twenty  on  the  throne? 
As  through  a  casement  now  myself  I  see 
Pass  down  the  shouting  street ;  'tis  good  to  be 

Young,  and  the  first  Napoleon's  son ! 
All  Notre  Dame  invades  my  dreaming  soul, 
I  see  the  incense,  hear  the  organ  roll, 

A  nation  offers  up  a  prayer  ! 
God  !  what  great  causes  may  be  served  by  kings ! 
How  they  can  love !    Achieve  what  righteous  things  ! 

Prokesch,  the  Future  shows  too  fair ! 
O  France,  who  with  thy  blood  didst  write  our  name. 
With  happy  days  I  will  repay  the  fame; 

I  come,  triumphant  in  my  pride. 
Sun  on  my  flags ;  the  air  with  shouts  is  rent. 
The  Champs  Elysees,  with  their  chestnut  scent. 

Waft  me  fair  welcome  as  I  ride. 

Flambeau. 
The  women  stand  on  chairs  to  see  your  face, 
Each  the  fair  symbol  of  Parisian  grace, 

The  guns  in  wreaths  of  flowers  are  dressed ; 
Fierce  Paris  madly  hails  your  sovereignship. 

The   Duke. 
It  were  like  kissing  France  upon  the  lip 
U  Paris  took  me  to  her  breast. 

Flambeau. 
And  you  will  hear  the  sufferer's  complaint; 

[218] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Do  you  not  feel  your  hand  already  faint 
Signing  so  many  an  amnesty? 

The   Duke. 
The  lies  they've  told  me  make  the  truth  more  dear, 
Oh,  Freedom,  Freedom,  thou  hast  nought  to  tear  — 

From  one  so  late  from  bonds  set  free! 
What  can  I  do  to  foster  noble  aims  ? 
Treviso,  Montebello,  these  are  names 

Their  sons  inherit  without  fear, 
But  other  names  are  glorious,  and  since 
My  Father  would  have  made  Corneille  a  Prince 

I'll  make  our  Victor  Hugo  Peer! 
I'll  do — I'll  do — I'll  be  the  poor  man's  shield! 
The  heroic  savour,  rising  from  this  field. 

Gives  me  a  foretaste  of  my  home ; 
Wagram !    'Twas  well  I  hither  came  to  drain 
The  stirrup-cup  upon  thy  glorious  plain ! 

Oh,  my  beloved  France ! — I  come — ! 
Ah—! 

Flambeau. 
What  is  it  ? 

The   Duke. 

Nothing. 

Prokesch. 

You  are  suffering! 

The   Duke. 
Yes,  to  the  marrow,  but  a  gallop  cures  me. 
Stars  twinkle  in  the  skies  like  golden  rowels. 
Here  are  the  steeds,  and  we're  to  ride  to  France  1 
Embrace  me,  friend ! 

Prokesch. 

Emotion  strangles  me. 

The   Duke. 
Brother! 

[219] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Prokesch. 
My  Lord ! 

The   Duke. 

Ah,  hush!— The  saddle-girth!— 
Oh,  it's  delicious  to  escape  on  horseback 
Through  such  a  night,  in  dancing-pumps! 

Prokesch. 
[To  Marmont,  pointing  to  the  Conspirators.] 

Those  youths — 
Why  have  they  come  ? 

Marmont. 

Why,  that  the  world  may  know 
They  also  were  conspirators ! 

The   Duke. 

A  whip! 

A   Conspirator. 
[Introducing  himself  to  the  Duke.] 
The  Viscount  of  Otranto — 

The   Duke. 

Fouche's  son! 

Flambeau. 
[To  the  Duke.] 
No  matter  now. 

[Arranging  the  horse.] 

The  stirrup  long? 

The   Duke. 

No;  short. 

Second  Conspirator. 
(Bending  low  to  the  Duke.] 
Goubeaux,  the  Countess  Camerata's  agent. 
Your  humble  servant  Goubeaux — 

The   Duke. 

Very  welL 

[220  ] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

GOUBEAUX. 

[Bowing  once  more.] 

The  Countess's  chief  agent. 

Third   Conspirator. 
[Advancing  eagerly.] 

Pionnet — 
I'm  Pionnet.  I  represent  King  Joseph; 
On  his  behalf  I  brought  the  subsidies. 

The   Duke. 
[To  Flambeau,  busy  with  the  horse.] 
Only  the  snaffle — 

Fourth   Conspirator. 
I  arranged  the  guides 
And  relays,  and  at  yonder  village,  Sire, 
Disguises — Morchain. 

Flam  beau. 

All  right,  Whatsyourname. 

Fourth   Conspirator. 

Morchain ! 

Fifth    Conspirator. 
I  got  the  passports.    Thankless  task ! 
See  how  the  seals  are  forged !    Guibert. 

All. 

[Each  mentioning  his  name.] 

Goubeaux- 
Morchain — Otranto — Pionnet — 

Flambeau. 

We  know. 

One   of   the   Conspirators. 
Your  Father  had  a  memory  for  names. 

Sixth   Conspirator. 
[Hurrying  up.] 

Borowski,  Sire !    It  was  my  glorious  task 
To  hire  the  uniform  the  Countess  wears ! 

[221] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Enough !    Enough !    I  shall  remember  all, 
And  best  of  all  the  one  who  has  not  spoken! 
Your  name? 

[The  man  spoken  to  turns,  and  the  Duke  recog- 
nises the  Attache.] 

What !    You  here ! 

The  Attach  e. 

Not  as  partisan. 
Only  as  friend.    Indeed  no  slight  occasion 
Was  needed — 

Flambeau 
[To  the  Duke.] 

Mount ! 

The   Duke. 

The  dawn  is  in  the  east, 
I  seize  the  reins,  and — Alea  jacta  est! 

The   Attache. 
My  Lord,  if  I  have  sought  this  rendezvous, 
'Twas  to  defend  you — 

The   Duke, 

To  defend  me,  sir? 

The   Attach  e. 
I  feared  you  were  in  danger — 

The   Duke. 

Danger?— What? 

The   Attache. 
The  rogue  Tiburtius,  whom  I  hope  to  pink. 
Sneaked  from  the  ball  and  never  sent  his  seconds. 
So  I  ran  after  him,  and  saw  him  meet 
Another  rogue,  and  heard  the  two  conspire 
To  kill  you  at  some  rendezvous. 

[  222  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Duke. 

The  Countess! 

The  Attache, 
The  rendezvous  was  here,  as  you  had  told  me. 
I  came.    All's  well.    I  go. 

The  Duke. 

The  rendezvous 
Was  in  the  hunting-lodge.    They'll  kill  the  Countess,L_ 
We  must  go  back ! 

All. 
No!    No! 

A  Conspirator. 

Oh,  why? 

M  AR  M  O  N  T. 

The  Countess — ? 
Prokesch. 
She  can  unmask. 

The   Duke. 
Alas,  you  little  know  her. 
She'd  die  ten  times  to  let  me  win  ten  minutes. 
Come  back! 

Voices. 
No! 

The   Duke. 

But  I  cannot — Ah,  come  back! — 
I  cannot  let  them  kill  her  in  my  absence ! 

O  T  R  A  N  TO. 

Our  efforts  wasted ! 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T. 

If  we  re-conspire 
They  will  not  let  you  fly. 

Another    Conspirator. 
And  France? 

[223] 


«  L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Another. 
The   Duke. 


The  Empire! 


Back! 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T. 

Forward ! 

The   Duke. 
Back ! 

M  AR  M  O  N  T. 

You  cast  away  the  crown! 

The   Duke. 
To  leave  her  were  to  cast  rfiy  soul  away ! 

M  AR  M  o  N  T. 

One  sometimes  has  to  sacrifice — 

The   Duke. 

A  woman? 

M  AR  M  ON  T. 

Risk — for  a  woman — all  the  chance  of  triumph — ! 

Flambeau. 
He's  a  French  Prince !    That's  certain,  anyhow ! 

O  T  R  a  N  T  o  . 
We  must  abduct  him ! 

Flambeau. 
Back! 

OtR  A  NTO. 

My  coach  is  here. 

Flambeau. 
I'll  run  you  through  the  body  if  you  touch  him  1 

The   Duke. 
Back  I  or  with  whip  uplifted  I  will  charge 
After  the  fashion  of  Murat,  my  uncle ! 

Prokesch. 
Stand  back! 

[224] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Help,  Prokesch! 

Voices. 

We  shall  have  to  force  him. 

The   Duke. 
[To  the  Attache.] 

And  you,  who  say  you  came  in  my  defence, 
It  is  by  robbing  me  of  faith  and  scruple, 
They  would  assassinate  me  truly  !    Now,  defend  me ! 

The   Attache. 
No,  Sire !  begone ! 

The   Duke. 

What,  you!  this  base  advice? 

The   Attache. 
Go,  Sire,  I  will  defend  the  woman.     '-*——' 

The   Duke. 

You? 
You  cannot. 

The   Attache. 
Not  as  partisan  ;  as  friend. 

The    Duke. 
It  would  ensure  my  flight. 

The   Attache. 

Begone,  my  Lord. 
Whate'er  I  do  is  for  the  Countess. 

The   Duke. 

Yes, 
ButI— 

Prokesch. 
I'll  lead  him. 

The   Attache. 

Prokesch  knows  the  way. 

[225] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

[Still  hesitating.] 

I  cannot — 

Voices. 
Yes! 

M  AR  M  O  N  T. 

The  better  way ! 

Voices. 

Begone. 

The  Countess   Camerata. 

"  [Entering,  still  in  her  disguise.] 
Unhappy  boy !    Not  gone ! 

The   Duke. 

You! — but  they  told  me — 
How  could  I  go? 

The   Countess. 
On  horseback. 

The   Duke. 

But  your  life — ! 

The   Countess. 
A  woman's  life!    What  loss  would  that  have  been? 

T  H  E   Du  k  e. 
But— 

The   Countess. 
You  should  have  abandoned  me. 


The   Duke. 

The   Countess. 
Think  of  the  time  you've  lost ! 


But  think ! 


T  h  E    D  u  K  E. 

Your  risks — ? 

The   Countess. 

What  risks? 

[226] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
And  all  our  fears  on  your  behalf — 

The   Countess. 

What  fears? 
Was  not  your  Flambeau,  there,  my  fencing-master  ? 

The   Duke. 
The  man — ? 

The   Countess. 
Begone ! 

The   Duke, 

What  did  you  do? 

The   Countess. 

Oh,  nothing. 

Of  course  he  drew  his  sword,  and  I  drew  mine. 

The   Duke. 
You  fought  for  me ! 

The   Countess, 

"  I  did  not  know,"  he  muttered, 
*'  The  Corsican's  son  had  so  much  skill.    I  think 
He  knew  it  not  himself  " — But  then  my  voice — 

The   Duke. 
Oh !    You  are  wounded ! 

The   Countess. 

Scratched  across  the  fingers. 
My  voice  betrayed  me.  Back  he  sprang !    "  A  woman !  " 
"  Defend  yourself!  "  said  I.    "  I  should  be  laughed  at, 
For  you  are  not  the  Chevalier  d'Eon !  " 
"  Defend  yourself,  I'm  a  Napoleon  !  " 
Feeling  my  blade  slip  snake-like  over  his, 
He  lunges,  and  I  make — 

Flambeau, 

Our  secret  stroke! 

[227] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Countess. 
One !    Two ! 

Flambeau. 
That  must  have  been  a  rough  surprise ! 

The   Countess. 
'Twas  a  surprise  from  which  he'll  not  recover. 

The   Duke. 
Heavens !    And  the  girl — ! 

The   Countess. 

What  does  she  matter  now? 

T  H  e   Du  ke. 
But,  did  she  come? 

The   Countess. 

Well — No,  then !    When  the  door 
Was  broken  open  by  a  furious  fist, 
I  was  alone.    She  had  not  come. 

The   Duke. 

That's  well. 

The   Countess. 
But  servants  came;  and  if  I  were  arrested 
All  would  be  known  too  soon,    I  lost  my  head. 
I  stumbled  out.    I  heard  I  know  not  whom 
Sending  to  fetch  the  Prefect  of  Police ; 
And  so  I  fled  upon  your  saddle-horse. 
I've  killed  it — I'm  exhausted — 

The   Duke. 

Look!     She  swoons! 

The   Cou  ntess. 
After  what  I  had  done  I  hoped  at  least 
To  hear  from  witnesses  that  you  were  gone ! 

A   Conspirator. 
You  were  pursued  I — And  in  a  moment — 

[  228  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

T  H  E     D  U  K  E. 

Take  care  of  her.    Conceal  her  in  the  hut. 

A   Conspirator. 
Yes. 

The   Countess. 
_Go! 

The   Duke. 

But  are  you  better? 

The   Countess. 

Not  yet  gone? 
For  God's  sake,  go !    Ah  !  could  your  Father  see  you 
Waiting,  enfeebled,  tender,  hesitating, 
With  what  contempt  he'd  shrug  his  epaulettes ! 

The    Duke. 
Good-bye ! 

Flambeau. 
We're  caught!    Too  late! 

Sedlnizky. 
[Entering   with   police   officers;   he   advan<:es   to    the 
Countess,  whom  he  mistakes  for  the  Duke.] 

Too  late,  my  Lord. 

The  Cou  ntess. 
[Furiously,  to  the  Duke.] 
Ah,  Temporizer !    Dreamer !    Cold  Idealist ! 

Sedlnizky. 
[Who  has  turned  to  the  person  addressed  by  the  Coun- 
tess and  recognized  the  Duke,  starts,  and,  addressing 
Mm.] 
Your  Highness — 

[He  turns  to  the  Countess.] 
Your  High — 

[To  the  Duke.] 

Your  High — 

Flambeau. 

He's  puzzled! 

[229] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Sedlnizky. 
So  that's  it! 

Flambeau. 
You've  been  drinking.    You  see  double. 

Sedlnizky. 
Count  Prokesch,  I  must  ask  you  to  retire. 
[Prokesch  exit.] 

Flambeau. 
We  shan't  be  crowned  just  yet  by  Uncle  Fesch ! 

Sedlnizky. 
[Indicating  the  Attache.] 
Lead  off  this  gentleman.     You,  sir,  in  this? 
Your  Government  shall  hear  of  it. 

The   Duke. 

I  swear 
He  was  noi;  of  the  plot ! 

The  Attache, 

Forgive  me,  Sire, 
Since  they're  arresting  us  I  take  my  share. 

The   Duke. 
[To  the  Attache,  as  he  is  led  off.] 
Good-bye,  then. 

[To  Sedlnizky.] 

Now,  policeman,  show  your  zeal. 

Sedlnizky. 
[To  his  men,  pointing  to  the  Countess.] 
Take  the  false  Prince  wherever — she — belongs. 

The  Duke. 
[Haughtily.] 

With  all  the  honors  due  to  me ! 

The  Countess. 

That  voice! 
Ah,  hapless  child!    You  would  have  made  a  leader! 
[She  is  led  off.] 

[230] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Sedlnizky. 
As  for  the  rest,  we'll  shut  our  eyes :    Verb.  sap. 

A   Conspirator. 
I  think— 

M  A  R  M  O  N  T. 

To  serve  the  cause — 

Another   Conspirator. 

We'd  better  go. 

Another. 
Reserve  our  strength — 

Another. 

For  later — 

Another. 

Bide  our  time. 
[All  disappear.] 

Flambeau. 
[To  Sedlnizky.] 
Open  your  eyes  again.    Here's  one  more  left. 

The   Duke. 
Oh,  fly  for  my  sake! 

Flambeau. 
Yours  ? 

Sedlnizky. 

[To  a  policeman.] 

'Tis  he! 

Policeman. 

Perhaps. 

Wanted  in  Paris. 

Sedlnizky. 

How  can  we  make  sure! 

[The  Policeman  hands  him  a  paper,  which  he 

reads.] 

"  Nose  ordinary,  eyes  ordinary, 

[231  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Mourn  ordinary — ""    Extraordman.- ! 

[Watching  Flambe-\u.] 
Two  bullets  in  his — back. 

Flambeau. 
A  lie! 

Sedlnizky. 

Of  course. 

Flambeau. 
I'm  lost    AH  right;   Til  have  my  little  joke, 
And  deck  myself  in  flowers  ere  dropping  out, 

Sedlnizky. 
You  answer  to  the  name  of  Seraph  Flambeau. 

Flambeau. 
No,  sir !    That  name's  not  good  enough  to  die  with. 
I'll  be  drum-major  in  the  Dance  of  Death : 
Not  merely  Seraph,  nor  Flambeau,  the  torch. 
I  broaden!     I'm  Archangel  Chandelier! 

The   Duke. 
Win  you  deliver  him  to  France  ? 

Sedlnizky. 

Yes. 

The   Duke. 

Like  a  thief? 
You  have  no  right,  sir — I 

Sedlnizky. 

But  v.-e'll  take  it. 

The   Dike. 

Heavens ! 

Flambeau. 
Twas  getting  past  a  joke  that  I  should  never 
Be  present  when  they  wanted  to  behead  me, 

Sedlnizky. 
Also  his  decoration  is  illegal. 
Take  off  that  ribbon! 

[232] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

Take  it.    But  it  grows 
As  often  as  I  choose  on  my  old  hide. 

[Unseen  by  the  others  he  stabs  himself.] 

Sedlnizky. 
Take  off  his  cloak ! 

[IVhen  the  cloak  is  removed,  the  spot  of  blood 
shows  like  the  ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor 
on  Flam  beau's  shirt.] 

What's  that? 

Flambeau. 

Looks  rather  well! 
Sedlnizky. 
Come !     Make  an  end ! 

Flambeau. 
[To  the  Duke.] 

My  Lord,  this  leaves  me  not 

Till  death ! 

Sedlnizky. 
What !     He  has  pinned  another  on ! 

Flambeau. 
You  cannot  make  an  end!     Fve  pinned  another; 
And  when  that's  gone,  another,  and  another! 

The   Duke. 
WTiat  will  they  do? 

Flambeau. 

What  did  they  do  to  Xey? 

The   Duke. 
Impossible — ! 

Flambeau. 
A  little  firing-partj- — 
Rrrrrr! 

The  Duke. 
Ah! 

[233] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 
I  always  laughed  at  bullets; 
But  French  ones?    Never!    None  of  that,  Lisette! 

The  Duke. 
You  will  not  give  him  up  ? 

Sedlnizky. 

Without  delay! 

Flambeau. 
Seraph,    your    wings    are    clipped;    good-night,    my 
friend ! 

Sedlnizky. 
March ! 

The   Duke. 

Look !    He  staggers !    Flambeau ! — Look ! 

Policeman. 

He's  falling! 

Fla  m  be au. 

[On  his  knees;  knocking  off  the  policeman's  hat.'\ 

The  Duke  is  speaking!    Take  that  stovepipe  off  I 

The   Duke. 
Flambeau,  you've  killed  yourself! 

Flambeau. 

No !    Fve  pinned  on 
An  everlasting  ribbon  of  the  Legion! 

The   Duke. 
ril  not  allow  one  of  your  men  to  touch  him: 
What !   the  clean  soldier  touched  by  soiled  policemen ! 
Leave  us  alone  together.    Go ! — Begone ! 

Flambeau. 
My  Lord — ! 

Sedlnizky. 

[To  a  policeman,  pointing  to  the  old  man  of  the  hut.^ 

Lead  off  that  peasant. 

[The  old  man  is  led  off.] 

[  234  ] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Du  ke. 

I'll  await 

My  regiment.     'Tis  summoned  here  at  dawn. 

The  standards  shall  salute  him,  and  the  drums, 

And  my  own  soldiers  shall  uplift  his  body. 

Sedlnizky. 
[To  a  policeman.] 
Where  are  the  horses? 

The    Poli  cem  an. 

[Aside  to  him.] 

Gone. 

Sedlnizky. 

Then  let  him  be. 
[To  the  Duke.] 
Highness,  we  cede. 

The   Duke. 
Begone ! 

Sedlnizky. 

I  understand — 

The  Duke. 
I  turn  you  out. 

Sedlnizky. 
My  Lord! 

The  Duke. 

I  turn  you  out! 
For  on  the  field  of  Wagram  I'm  at  home ! 
[Sedlnizky  and  the  policeman  go.] 

Flambeau. 
It's  funny,  all  the  same,  that  on  this  field 
Where  I  was  wounded  for  the  Father,  now 
I  perish  for  the  son. 

The   Duke. 

No!   not  for  me!    — * 
It  is  for  him :  I  am  not  worth  your  death. 

[235] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

For  him  ? 

The   Duke. 

For  him !    This  is  the  field  of  Wagram. 

Flambeau. 
Ah,  yes  ! — I  die — 

The   Duke. 
Do  you  not  recognize 
Wagram,  the  field,  the  hill,  the  pointed  steeple? 

Flambeau. 
Yes! 

The   Duke. 
Do  you  see  the  Austrian  cannon  yonder 
All  painted  yellow,  belching  fire  and  smoke? 

Flambeau. 
The  battle— ! 

The    Duke. 
Do  you  hear  the  noise  of  it? 

Flambeau. 
I  die  at  Wagram !    Ah !    I  die  at  Wagram ! 

The    Duke. 
Do  you  not  see  the  wounded  horse  rush  by. 
Dragging  his  slaughtered  rider  by  the  stirrups? 
We  are  at  Wagram !    'Tis  a  solemn  moment. 
Davoust  has  come  to  turn  Neusiedel's  flank ; 
The  Emperor  has  raised  his  little  spy-glass ; 
You  have  been  wounded  by  a  bayonet, 
And  I  have  brought  you  to  this  little  hill. 

Flambeau. 
But  the  light  cavalry?    Haven't  they  charged? 

The    Duke. 
Yonder  the  blue,  striped  with  white  shoulder-beltS : 
Those  are  the  Infantry, 

[236J 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

With  General  Reille ! 

The   Duke, 
The  Emperor  should  send  Oudinot  to  help ! 
He  lets  his  left  be  crushed ! 

Flambeau.  x^ 

Ah !   that's  his  cua^jing ! 

T  H  e    D  u  K  e. 
They  fight !    They  fight !    Macdonald  hastens  up, 
And  wounded  Mass^na  drives  slowly  by. 

Flambeau. 
If  the  Archduke  deploys  his  right  he's  lost. 

The   Duke. 
All's  well! 

Flambeau. 

They  fight  ? 

The   Duke. 

The  Prince  of  Auersberg 
Is  taken  by  the  Polish  Lancers  of  the  Guard. 

Flambeau. 
The  Emperor?   What's  the  Emperor  doing? 

The   Duke. 

Watching. 

Flambeau. 

Is  the  Archduke  caught  in  the  little  'un's  trap  ? 

The    Duke. 
The  distant  dust-cloud  yonder  is  Nansouty. 

Flambeau. 
Has  the  Archduke  not  yet  deployed  his  right? 

The  Duke. 

The  smoke  is  Lauriston — 

[  237  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Flambeau. 

But  the  Archduke? 

The   Duke. 
Now  he  deploys  his  right. 

Flambeau. 

His  goose  is  cooked. 

The   Duke. 
Here  come  the  guns ! 

Flambeau. 

I  thirst! — I  stifle — Drink! 
What — is — the — Emperor  doing? 

The   Duke. 

With  a  smile 
He  shuts  his  little  spy-glass. 

Flambeau. 

[Closing  his  eyes.] 

Victory ! 

The   Duke. 
Flambeau ! 

[He  looks  at  him,  and  moves  azvay  a  little.] 
This  dying  soldier  frightens  me. 
Yet  'tis  not  strange  a  dying  grenadier 
Should  fall  asleep  upon  this  field  of  glory. 
The  field  is  well  acquainted  with  his  likes. 

[He  bends  over  him  and  cries.] 
Yes !    Victory !    The  soldiers  toss  their  shakos ! 

Flambeau. 
[In  his  death-rattle.] 
I  thirst—! 

Distant   Voices. 
I  thirst! — I  thirst! 

The   Duke. 
[Shuddering.] 

What  are  those  echoes  ? 

[238] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

A   Voice. 
I  thirst— ! 

The   Duke. 

0  God! 

The   Same  Voices. 

[Very  distan^i.] 

I  die — I  die! 

The   Duke. 
[With  horror.] 

His  voice 
Reverberates  beneath  the  lurid  sky. 

The   Voices. 
I  die—! 

The   Duke. 

I  understand !    His  cries  of  death 
Are,  for  this  vale  which  knows  them  all  by  heart, 
As  the  first  measures  of  a  well-known  song. 
The  plain  takes  up  the  moaning  death  has  hushed. 

The   Plain. 
Ah !— Ah  I 

The    Duke. 

1  understand  !   complaints  and  sobs ! — 
'Tis  Wagram's  field,  remembering  aloud ! 

ThePlain. 
Ah—!    Ah—! 

The   Duke. 
[Looking  at  Flambeau.] 

How  still  he  lies ! — I  must  begone  I 
For  'tis  as  if  he'd  fallen  in  the  battle ! 

[And  bending  over  him  he  murmurs.] 
Thus  and  no  otherwise  they  must  have  looked ! 
The  uniform — the  blood — ! 

[He  is  about  to  go,  hut  suddenly,  zvith  horror.] 

Another !     There ! 
There — !    Ever>'where — !    The  same  accusing  shapes ! 
They're  dying  thus  as  far  as  eye  can  reach  1 

[239] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

T  H  E     PlAI N. 

Alas—! 

The   Duke. 
I  hear  them  speaking  in  the  gloom ! 

Voices. 
My  brow  bleeds — !    My  leg  is  dead — !    My  arm  hangs 

loose ! — 
I'm  crushed  beneath  this  gun ! 

The   D  V  k  e. 

The  battle-field ! 
I've  willed  it :  it  has  risen. 

Voices. 

Water !— Water 
Upon  my  gash !    Ah !  tell  me  what  I've  broken! 
Ah !  do  not  let  me  perish  in  this  ditch ! 

The   Duke. 
Forests  of  arms  are  quivering  in  the  plain ; 
I  tread  upon  a  field  of  epaulettes. 

A   Voice. 
Help! 

The   Duke. 
And  I  slip  on  leather  shoulder-belts ! 

A   Voice. 
Dragoon,  reach  me  your  hands! 

Another. 

They're  shot  away! 

The   Duke. 
Ah!   whither  turn? 

Voices. 
The  ravens ! 

The   Duke. 

Horrible ! 
The  wooden  soldiers  ranged  upon  my  table ! 

[  240  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Voices. 
Horses  haye  trampled  on  me !     Drink ! — The  ravens ! 
I'm  dying ! — How  I  suffer ! — God  forgive  me ! 
The  ravens ! — Help ! 

The  Duke. 

Alas !     Where  are  the  Eagles  ? 

The  Voices. 
Water ! — This  brook  runs  blood ! — Yet  let  me  drink ! 
I  thirst !— I  die !— God's  curse !— I'm  hurt  '.—Mother ! 

The  Duke. 
Ah! 

A  Voice. 

For  God's  sake !  put  a  bullet  through  my  head ! 

T  H  E    D  u  K  E. 

Ah !     Now  I  understand  my  wakeful  nights — 

A  Voice. 
Curse  the  Light  Cavalry !     They're  base  assassins ! 

The  Duke. 
The  racking  cough  that  wakes  me  in  a  sweat ! 

A  Voice. 
I  cannot  drag  my  leg!     Oh,  wrench  it  off! 

'  The  Duke. 
The  blood  I  spit !     I  know  whose  blood  it  is ! 

The  Plain. 
Ah!— Ah— ! 

The  Duke. 
And  all  the  arms !     And  all  the  arms  I  see ! 
The  handless  wrists!     The  hands  with  shattered  fin- 
gers ! 
The  monstrous  harvest  which  a  mighty  wind 
Bends  me-ward  with  a  curse !     Oh !     Mercy !     Mercy ! 
Old  Cuirassier,  groaning  with  outstretched  hands — 
Horrible  agonized  hands  with  bloody  wrists  ! — 
Mercy !     Poor  little  Private  of  the  Guards, 
Who  slowly  raise  your  livid  face  to  mine ! 

[241] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Look  not  upon  me  with  those  glazing  eyes ! 
Why  do  you  creep  upon  me  through  the  gloom? 
God  !    'Tis  as  though  you  strove  to  utter  cries ! 
Why  do  you  all  suck  in  a  mighty  breath  ? 
Why  do  you  open  horror-sated  lips  ? 
What  will  you  cry  ?— What  ?— What  ? 

All   the   Voices. 

Long  live  the  Emperor ! 

The    Duke. 
Ah !    Pardon,  for  the  glory's  sake !— I  thank  you. 
I  understand.     I  am  the  expiation. 
All  was  not  paid,  and  1  complete  the  price. 
'Twas  fated  I  should  seek  his  battle-field. 
And  here,  above  the  multitudinous  dead. 
Be  the  white  victim,  growing  daily  whiter, 
Renouncing,  praying,  asking  but  to  suffer. 
Yearning  toward  heaven,  like  sacrificial  incense ! 
And  while  betwixt  the  heavens  and  this  field 
I  am  outstretched  with  all  my  soul  and  body, 
Father,  I  feel  the  shuddering  furrows  rise, 
I  feel  the  hill  upheaved  beneath  my  feet 
To  lift  me  gently  to  the  stooping  heavens ! 
'Tis  meet  and  right  the  battle-field  should  offer 
This  sacrifice,  that  henceforth  it  may  bear 
Pure  and  unstained  its  name  of  Victory. 
Wagram,  behold  me !    Ransom  of  old  days, 
Son,  offered  for,  alas !   how  many  sons ! 
Above  the  dreadful  haze  wherein  thou  stirrest, 
Uplift  me,  Wagram,  in  thy  scarlet  hands ! 
It  must  be  so!    I  know  it!    Feel  it!    Will  it! 
The  breath  of  death  has  rustled  through  my  hair! 
The  shudder  of  death  has  passed  athwart  my  soul ! 
I  am  all  white :  a  sacramental  Host ! 
Wiiat  more  reproaches  can  they  hurl,  O  Father,    _ 
Against  our  hapless  fate  ? — Oh,  hush !    I  add  j 

[  242  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

In  silence  Schonbrunn  to  Saint  Helena ! — 
'Tis  done ! — But  if  the  Eaglet  is  resigned 
To  perish  like  the  innocent,  yielding  swan. 
Nailed  in  the  gloom  above  some  lofty  gate. 
He  must  become  the  high  and  holy  signal 
That  scares  the  ravens  and  calls  back  the  eagles. 
There  must  be  no  more  moanings  in  the  field, 
*Nor  dreadful  writhings  in  the  underwood. 
Bear  on  thy  wings,  O  whirlwind  of  the  plain, 
The  shouts  of  conquerors  and  songs  of  triumph ! 

[A  proud  and  joyous  clamor  arises  in  the  distance.] 
I've  changed  the  moanings  into  trumpet  blasts ! 

[The  wind  wafts  vague  sounds  of  trumpet-calls.] 
I've  earned  the  right  to  see  what  crawled  and  writhed. 
Suddenly  leap  into  a  phantom  charge ! 

[Noise  as  of  a  cavalcade.  The  Voices,  which  be- 
fore zvere  lugubrious,  no7V  call  to  each  other 
with  commands  and  signals.] 

The   Voices. 
Forward ! 

[The  drums  of  the  wind  beat  the  charge.] 

The    Duke. 
The  pomp  and  pageantry  of  battle, 
The  dust  that's  raised  by  charging  cavalry  ! 

Voices. 
Charge ! 

The   Duke, 

The  wild  laughter  of  the  fierce  Hussars ! 

Voices. 
[In  a  shout  of  epic  laughter.] 
Ha!    Ha! 

The   Duke. 
Now,  Goddess  of  the  hundred  mouths, 
Victory,  from  whose  lips  I've  torn  the  gag. 
Sing  in  the  distance  1 

[243] 


L'  A  I  G  L  O  N 

[Far  away.] 


Voi  C  ES. 

Form  battalions ! 


The   Duke. 
[Upright  in  the  first  glow  of  dawn.] 
Glory  !      O  God,  to  battle  in  this  blaze ! 

Voices. 
Fire ! — Half-columns,  by  your  right,  advance ! 

T  H  E    Du  K  E. 
To  battle  in  this  tumult  you  commanded ! 

0  Father!     Father!— 

[Amid  the  noise  of  battle,  which  is  dying  azuay 
in  the  distance,  a  haughty,  metallic  voice  is 
heard,  preceded  and  followed  by  a  roll  of 
drufns.] 

The   Voice. 

Officers — and — men ! 

The   Duke. 

[In  mild  delirium,  drawing  his  sword.] 

1  come  ! — I  fight ! — Laugh,  fife  !  and  banners  wave ! 
Fix  bayonets  !    Fall  on  the  whitecoats !    Forward  ! 

[And  while  the  dream-sounds  die  away  toward  the 
right,  swept  by  the  ivind,  all  of  a  sudden,  on  the 
left,  a  real  military  band  bursts  out;  and  ab- 
ruptly, like  the  awaking  out  of  a  dream,  there 
is  the  contrast  between  the  furious  battle-music 
of  the  French,  and  a  tame  march  of  Schubert's, 
Austrian  and  dance-like,  drazving  near  in  the 
rosy  glow  of  the  morning.] 

The   Duke. 

[Who  has  turned  zinth  a  shudder.] 
What    white    thing   marching   through    the    dawning 
day? 

[  244  1 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Austrian  Infantry! 

[Beside  himself,  and  urging  along  imaginary 
Grenadiers.  ] 

Ha !    Up !   and  at  them ! 
The  enemy ! — Fall  on  them ! — Crush  them ! 
Follow  on !    Follow  on !    We'll  pass  across  their  bodies ! 
[With  his  sword  high  he  rushes  at  the  first  ranks 
of  an  Austrian  regiment  which  appears  on  the 
road.] 

An    Officer. 
[Throwing  himself  on  the  Duke  and  stopping  him.] 
For  God's  sake,  Prince  ! — This  is  your  regiment ! 

The   Duke. 
[As  if  awaking.] 
Ah — ?    This  is  my — ? 

[He  falls  hack;  passes  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head, and  gazes  wildly  at  the  white  soldiers  ivho 
inarch  past  to  the  sound  of  the  fife.  He  sees  his 
destiny,  and  accepts  it.  The  arm  he  had  raised 
for  the  charge  sinks  slozvly,  his  fist  falls  on  his 
hip;  his  sword  falls  into  the  regulation^  posi- 
tion, and,  stiff  as  an  automaton,  zvith  a  toneless 
and  mechanical  voice,  the  voice  of  an  Austrian 
officer,  he  cries:] 

Halt!    Front  turn!    Eyes  right! 


The  Curtain  Falls  as  the  Drill  Begins. 


[245] 


(246  J 


THE  SIXTH   ACT 


The  Duke's  bedroom  at  Schonbrunn.  The  walls  are 
covered  with  Gobelin  tapestry.  Through  folding- 
doors  on  the  left  there  is  a  glimpse  of  the  china- 
cabinet.  There  are  also  folding-doors  on  the  right 
and  in  the  centre.  Empire  furniture.  A  little 
camp-bedstead  stands  almost  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  Many  bunches  of  violets  are  scattered 
about. 

The  Duke  is  discovered  buried  in  a  deep  arm-chair,  his 
angers  idly  toying  with  a  large  bunch  of  violets. 
The  Archduchess  is  offering  him  a  glass  of  milk. 
Doctor  Malfatti  is  seated  at  the  back  of  the 
room. 

T  H  e   D  u  K  e. 
AGAIN?    Well,  there,  then. 

^^      The   Archduchess. 

No,  you've  left  a  little. 

The   Duke. 

You  ?— Why,  I  thought  you  ill ! 

The  Archduchess. 

They've  let  me  come. 
Thank  heaven ! — And  you  ? 

C  247  ] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

Why,  if  you  leave  your  sick-bed 
I  must  be  worse  indeed. 

The  Archduchess. 

Come,  now,  that's  nonsense! 
You  know  you're  better. 

[She  examines  the  cup  the  Duke  hands  her.] 

There,  that's  finished. 
[She  calls  the  Doctor,  who  has  been  seated  at  the 
ba^k  of  the  room.] 
His  Highness  drank  his  milk. 

The   Doctor. 

I'm  very  glad. 

The   Archduchess. 
How  good  it  was  of  him ! 

The   Doctor. 

How  good ! 

The   Duke. 

How  hard^ 
When  I  had  dreamed  of  history's  reward, 
I  And  when  ambition  seared  my  soul — How  hard, 
:  To  be  content  with  praise  for  drinking  milk ! 
[To  the  znolets  on  his  pillozv.] 
Oh,  ball  of  freshness  laid  upon  my  fever, 
Dear  flowers  that  bring  the  Spring  into  my  room — ! 

The   Archduchess. 
All  bring  you  violets  now? 

The   Duke. 

Ah,  yes!    Already. 

The   Archduchess. 
Hush !    As  an  act  of  gratitude  to  God 
For  saving  us — since  both  of  us  are  better — 
I  am  to  take  the  Sacrament  this  morning. 
I  think — I  hope — Franz,  wil'.  you  not  come,  too? 

[248] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The    Duke. 
[After  a  long  look  at  her.  ] 
Ah,  now  I  see  the  pious  trick  you'd  play  me ! 
This  is  the  end  ! 
[He  rises.] 

The   Archduchess. 

I  knew  you'd  say  so ! 

[With  forced  playfulness.] 

Think! 
The  etiquette — ! 

The    Duke. 

The — etiquette  ? 

The   Archduchess. 

You  know 
You  cannot  be  deceived.    When  Austrian  Princes 

Receive  the — 

The   Duke. 
Last—? 

The  Archduchess. 

Oh !  not  that  mournful  word  !— 
All  the  Imperial  Family  must  be  present. 

The   Duke. 
That's  true. 

The   Archduchess. 
But  we're  alone !    I've  had  an  altar 
Placed  in  that  cabinet ;  and  look  about  you  : 
No  sign  of  an  Archduke  or  an  Archduchess. 
The  Prelate  says  the  Mass  for  you  and  me; 
'Tis  but  the  ordinary  Mass ;  you  see 
This  Sacrament  is  not — 

The    Duke. 

The  last.    'Tis  true. 

The   Archduchess. 
Well?    Are  you  coming?    Hark!    The  Mass  begins! 

[249] 


L  *  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 
Tis  true,  the  illustrious  audience  should  be  present. 

The   Archduchess. 
We've  but  the  Prelate  and  the  Acolyte. 

The   Duke. 
So,  then,  I  am  to  have  a  respite — ? 
[They  go  out.] 

[As  soon  as  they  have  disappeared,  the  opposite 
door  opens  and  General  Hartmann  ushers  in 
the  Court.] 

Hartmann. 

Come! 
Place  yourselves  here;  and  when,  with  humbled  eyes 
The  Duke  is  prostrate  to  receive  the  Host — 

One   of   the    Princes. 
We'll  place  ourselves — 

A    Pri  N  cess. 

[To  a  child.] 

Hush! 

Hartmann. 

In  that  awful  moment 
When  nothing  can  distract  a  Christian's  thoughts 
ril  softly  ope  the  door.    For  one  brief  second 
Your  Highnesses  will  see  his  golden  head ; 
Then  I  shall  close  the  door,  and  thus  he'll  rise. 
Not  knowing  he  received,  before  the  Court, 
As  usage  dictates,  the  Viaticum. 

Metternich. 
Silence ! 

Prokesch. 
[Wlio  has  just  brought  in  the  Countess  and  Theresa.] 

They  have  permitted  me  to  place  you 
Behind  the  Imperial  Family,  and  thus. 
Above  the  heads  of  Princes  bent  in  prayer, 

[250] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

O'er  whom  mysterious  fate  is  hovering, 
And  paUid  children  clasping  pitiful  hands, 
For  the  last  time  you'll  see  the  dying  Duke. 

Theresa. 
Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  sir! 

Hartmann. 

Let  no  one  stir 

When  the  door  opens ! 

Maria   Louisa. 

Ah!    The  sacring-bell! 

A    Princess. 
It  is  the  Elevation ! 
[All  kneel.] 

Hartmann. 
Gently ! 

The   Countess    Camerata. 

[To  Metternich.] 

Well, 

Prince?    Is  there  nothing  you  regret? 

Metternich. 

No,  nothing. 

I  did  my  duty,  Madam — often  suffered 

While  doing  it — for  my  country's  weal,  my  master's, 

And  in  defence  of  ancient  privilege. 

TheCountess. 
You've  no  regrets  ? 

Metternich. 

No.    None. 

Maria   Louisa. 

The  Agnus  Dei. 
[To  Hartmann,  who  very  gently  opens  the  door 
a  very  little  way  and  peers  through.] 
Let  not  the  door  creak  as  you  open  it ! 

[251] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 

None.    But  he  was  a  noble  Prince.    I  kneel 

To-day  not  only  to  the  Lamb  of  God! 

Hartmann. 

The  Prelate  has  uncovered  the  Ciboriuml 

All. 
Oh! 

Hartmann. 

Rigid  silence !    Pm  about  to  open! 

All. 
[With  emotion.] 

Oh! 

Hartmann. 
I  open! 
[He  silently  thrusts  the  wings  of  the  folding-doors 
open.  All  the  Court  is  prostrate.  There  is  a 
vague  glimpse  of  candle  light.  A  moment's 
pause  of  profound  emotion  and  silence.  The- 
resa slowly  rises  to  look  across  the  kneeling 
forms;  she  looks  and  sees.] 

Theresa. 
[Amid  the  sobs  which  overmaster  her.] 

Oh !   to  behold  him  thus ! 
[Movement.     General   Hartmann   has  swiftly 
closed  the  doors.    Everybody  has  risen.] 

Hartmann. 
Retire!    He  heard  the  sobbing! 

[All  have  hurried  toward  the  door  on  the  right, 
but  the  door  on  the  left  opens  quickly;  the  Duke 
appears  on  the  threshold  and  sees  them  all  stand- 
ing before  him.  After  a  long  look  which  takes 
in  the  situation:] 

T  H  e   D  u  K  e. 

Ah!— I  see. 
[He  drazvs  himself  up,  and  comes  tozvard  them 
with  sudden  majesty.] 

[252] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

I  thank  the  breaking  heart  that  broke  the  silence ; 
Let  her  who  wept  feel  no  remorse  for  weeping: 
They  had  no  right  to  rob  me  of  my  death. 

[To  the  Archdukes  and  Archduchesses^  who 
withdraw  respectfully.] 
But  leave  me  now,  my  Austrian  family ! 
"  My  son  was  born  a  Frenchman ;   until  death 
Let  him  remember  that."    And  I  remember. 

[To  the  Princes  who  are  leaving.] 
Farewell. 

[To  the  others.] 

Whose  was  the  breaking  heart  ? 

Theresa. 
[Who  has  remained  humbly  on  her  knees  in  a  corner.] 

My  Lord— ! 
The   Duke. 
[Approaching  her,  and  speaking  with  great  tender- 
ness. ] 

You  are  not  very  reasonable !    Once 

Over  your  book  you  wept  to  see  me  live 

An  Austrian  Prince  with  flowers  in  my  coat; 

And  now  you  weep  because  that  life  has  killed  me. 

Theresa. 
The  tryst — 

The   Duke. 

Well? 

Theresa. 
I  was  there. 


Yes— 


The   Duke. 

Theresa. 

The   Duke. 
Why? 

[253] 


Alas,  poor  soul! 


Madam, 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Theresa. 
Because  I  love  you. 

The  Duke. 
[To  the  Countess.] 

You  hid  this  from  me.    Why  ? 

The    Countess. 

Because  I  love  you. 

The  Duke. 
[To  Theresa  and  ^/je  Countess.] 
Who  brought  you  both  to  see  me? 

[Theresa  and  the  Countess  look  at  the  Arch- 
duchess.] 

The   Duke. 

[To  the  Archduchess,] 


You? 
The   Archduchess. 


Myself. 


The  Duke. 
Why  so  much  thoughtfulness? 

The   Archduchess. 

Because  I  love  you. 

The   Duke. 

Women  have  loved  me  as  they  love  a  child — 

[The  Three  Women  make  a  gesture  of  protest.] 
Ah,  yes !    The  child  they  pity,  spoil,  and  shelter — 
And  with  maternal  fingers,  on  my  brow 
Still  sought  the  golden  curls  which  Lawrence  painted. 

The   Countess. 
No,  no !    We  knew  the  struggles  of  your  soul ! 

The  Duke. 
And  history  itself  will  not  record 
The  Prince  whose  soul  was  seared  with  all  ambitions, 

[254] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

But  see  the  solemn,  rosy,  fair-haired  child 
Tricked  out  in  laces  in  his  little  goat-cart. 
Holding  the  globe  as  'twere  an  air-balloon. 

Maria   Louisa. 
Speak  to  me !    I  am  here !    Give  me  a  word 
To  soothe  remorse,  for  through  no  fault  of  mine 
1  was  too  small  beside  your  mighty  dreams. 
I  have  the  thriftless  conscience  of  a  bird ! 
The  tinkling  bells  that  jangle  in  my  brain 
Have  never  ceased  till  now.    Look  at  me  now ! 
Speak  to  me  now !    Forgive  me  now ! 

The   Duke. 

O  God! 
Inspire  me  with  the  deep,  yet  tender  word 
With  which  a  son  forgives  his  mother. 

Maria   Louisa. 

Franz, 
The  cradle  which  you  asked  them  for  last  night — 

A   Lackey. 
'Tis  here. 

[He  goes  out  to  fetch  it.] 

The   Duke. 
[Looking  at  Metternich.] 

Ah,  my  Lord  Chancellor,  I  die 
Too  soon  for  you ;  and  you  should  weep. 

Metternich. 

My  Lord- 

T  H  E   Duke. 

I  was  your  weapon  and  my  death  disarms  you ! 

Europe,  which  never  dared  to  say  you  nay. 

When  you  were  he  who  could  unchain  the  Eaglet, 

Listening  to-morrow,  will  take  heart,  and  say 

"  I  do  not  hear  it  stirring  in  its  cage !  " 

[255] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Metternich. 
My  Lord !    My  Lord ! 

[The  great  enamelled  cradle  is  brought  in.] 

The   Duke. 

The  cradle  Paris  gave  me ! 
My  splendid  cradle,  Prudhon's  masterpiece ! 
Amidst  its  gold  and  mother-o'-pearl  I  slept, 
A  babe,  whose  christening  was  a  coronation. 
Place  it  beside  this  little  bed,  whereon 
My  Father  slept  when  victory  fanned  his  slumbers. 
Closer !  until  its  laces  graze  the  sheets. 
Alas !    how  near  my  cradle  to  my  death-bed ! 

[He  points  to  the  gap  betzveen  the  cradle  and  the 
bed.] 
And  all  my  life  lies  in  that  narrow  space ! 

Theresa. 

Oh!— 

The   Duke. 

In  that  gap,  too  narrow  and  too  dark. 

Fate  ne'er  let  fall  a  single  pin  of  glory. 

Lay  me  upon  the  bed. 

Dietrichstein. 

How  pale  he  grows  1 

The   Duke. 
Ah,  I  was  greater  in  my  cradle,  than        ' 
I  am  upon  this  bed ;  and  women  rocked  me — 
Yes,  I  had  three  to  rock  me,  and  they  sang 
Their  strange  old  songs :   dear  songs  of  Mistress  Mar- 

chand ! 
Oh,  who  will  lull  me  now  with  cradle-songs  ? 

Maria   Louisa. 
Is  not  your  mother  here  to  sing  to  you  ? 

The   Duke. 
Do  you  know  any  songs  of  France? 

[256] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Maria   Louisa. 

Why — no. 
The   Duke. 
[To  Theresa.] 

And  you? 

Theresa. 
Perhaps. 

The   Duke. 

Oh,  sing  below  your  breath. 
"  The  rain  falls,  Shepherdess  "  and  "  May  is  come," 
And  sing  "  Upon  the  bridge  that  spans  the  Rhone," 
That  I  may  sleep,  rocked  on  the  people's  fancy. 
There  was  a  song  I  used  to  love ;  sing  that : — 
There  was  a  little  man. 
And  he  was  clad  in  gray — 

Theresa. 
Break,  tender  heart,  as  broke  the  heart  of  iron — 

The   Countess. 
A  crystal,  shattered  by  a  brazen  echo — 

The   Archduchess. 
A  harp-string,  shattered  by  a  battle-song — 

Theresa. 
A  lily  sinking  silently  on  laurels. 

The   Doctor. 
My  Lord  is  very  ill.    Stand  more  apart. 

Theresa. 
Farewell,  Franpois — ! 

The   Archduchess. 
Farewell,  Franz! 

The   Countess. 

Farewell,  Bonaparte! 

Maria    Louisa. 
Alas,  his  head  grows  heavy  on  my  shoulder ! 

[257] 


Poor  child! 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Archduchess. 

0  Duke  of  Reichstadt! 

The   Countess. 

King  of  Rome ! 

Theresa. 

The   Duke. 
[Deliriously.] 

The  horses!   horses! 

The   Prelate    [Wagner]. 
Let  us  fall  to  prayer! 

The   Duke. 
Horses !  that  I  may  ride  to  meet  my  father ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
Will  you  not  let  me  wipe  away  your  tears? 

The   Duke. 
No,  for  the  Victories,  my  sisters — Lo! 

1  see  them !   see  them  I   in  a  headlong  flight 
Draw  nigh  to  lave  their  glory  in  my  tears ! 

Maria    Louisa. 
What  are  you  saying? 

The   Duke. 

Nothing.    Did  I  speak? 
Hush !  Father,  that's  our  secret :  yours  and  mine ! — 
My  funeral  will  be  ugly.    Mumbling  women ; 
Lackeys  with  torches  ;  droning  Capuchins  ; 
And  then  they'll  lock  me  in  their  crypt — and  then — 

Maria   Louisa. 
Tell  me  your  sufferings,  child ! 

The   Duke. 

Oh !    Superhuman ! — 
And  then,  official  mourning  for  six  weeks. 

[258] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The  Countess. 
He  snatches  at  the  cradle's  lace,  as  if 
To  make  a  winding  sheet — 

The   Duke. 

It  will  be  ugly — 
I  must  remember  how  they  christen  better 
In  Paris  than  they  bury  in  Vienna. 
General  Hartmann! 

Hartmann. 
Prince ! 

The   Duke. 

Yes — while  I  wait 
For  death,  I'll  rock  my  childhood — 

[He  'hand's  General  Hartmann  a  hook  from 

under  his  pillow.] 

Here — 
[General  Hartmann  takes  the  book.    The  Duke 
falls  to  rocking  the  cradle.] 

I  rock 
My  past — I  rock  my  past — As  though 

The  Duke  of  Reickstadt  rocked  the  King  of  Rome. 
General — I  marked  a  place — 

Hartmann. 

I  see  it. 

The    Duke. 
Good.    While  I'm  dying,  read  aloud — 

Maria    Louisa. 

No,  no  I 
You  shall  not  die ! 

The   Duke. 

You  may  begin  to  read. 

Hartmann. 
[Standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  reading.] 
"  Toward  seven  o'clock  the  Cavalry  appear, 
Forming  the  head  of  the  procession — " 

[259] 


L' A  I  G  L  O  N 

Maria   Louisa. 
[Falling  on  her  knees  in  a  paroxysm  of  sohs.'\ 

Franz ! 
Hartmann. 
"  The  people,  shaken  with  great  sobs  of  joy, 
Utter  a  shout : — '  Long  live  the  King  of  Rome ! ' — " 

Maria   Louisa. 
Franz ! 

Hartmann. 
"  And  the  guns  salute ;  the  Cardinal 
Receives  their  Majesties,  and  so  the  pageant 
Moves  up  the  aisle  as  ancient  rules  prescribe. 
The  Ushers,  Kings-at-Arms,  their  chief,  the  pages, 
The  various  officers  of  the  staff,  the — " 

[Noticing  that  the  Duke  has  closed  his  eyes,  he 
stops.  ] 

The   Duke. 
[Opening  his  eyes.] 

Yes? 

Hartmann. 
"  The  Chamberlains,  the  Prefects  of  the  palace. 
Ministers,  Masters  of  the  Horse — " 

The   Duke. 

[With  failing  voice.] 

Go  on. 

Hartmann. 

"  Marshals  of  France,  Grand  Eagles ;  and  Princess 

Aldobrandini  holds  the  chrisom-cloth ; 

The  Countesses  Vilain  and  de  Beauvau 

Bring  in  the  ewer  and  the  salt-cellar — " 

The   Duke. 
[Still  paler  and  growing  rigid.] 
Read  on,  sir.     Mother — mother — lift  me  up. 

[Maria   Louisa,   assisted   by   the   Prelate  and 
Doctor  Malfatti,  raises  him  on  his  pillo'WS.'\ 

[260] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

Hartmann. 
"  Then  the  Grand  Duke,  who  took  on  this  occasion 
The  Austrian  Emperor's  place  as  Sponsor:   then 
Queen  Hortense,  and  the  Imperial  Godmother; 
Lastly,  the  King  of  Rome,  borne  by  Her  Grace, 
The  Duchess  of  Montesquiou.    His  Majesty, 
Whose  healthy  mien  the  crowd  observed  with  joy, 
Wore  a  great  silver  mantle,  lined  with  ermine, 
Whose  train  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Valmy  bore. 
Princes — " 

The   Duke. 
Omit  the  Princes. 

Hartmann. 

[Turnitig  over  a  pO'ge.] 


Omit 


"  Kings—" 

The   Duke. 

The  Kings.    The  end,  sir;  read  the  end — 

Hartmann. 
[Turning  over  several  pages.'\ 

"  And  when—" 
The   Duke. 

I  cannot  hear  you.    Louder. 

Doctor   Malfatti. 
[To  Wagner.] 

The  last  agony. 

Hartmann. 

[Raising  his  voice. '\ 

"  And  when  the  Herald  thrice  within  the  choir 

Had  cried  '  Long  live  the  King  of  Rome ! '  before 

They  handed  back  the  baby  to  its  nurse, 

The  Emperor  gently  took  it  from — " 

[He  hesitates,  with  a  glance  at  Maria  Louisa.] 

[261] 


L  '  A  I  G  L  O  N 

The   Duke. 

[With  infinite  nobility  and  placing  his  hand  with  tender 
forgiveness  on  the  head  of  Maria  Louisa,  ivho  is  kneel- 
ing at  his  side.] 

The  Empress? 
Hartmann. 

"  And  raised  it  to  receive  the  acclamation. 

The  loud—" 

The   Duke. 

[Whose  head  drops.] 

Mamma ! 

Maria   Louisa. 
[Throunng  herself  across  his  body.]  ' 

Francois ! 

The   Duke. 
[Opening  his  eyes.] 

Napoleon ! 
[He  sinks  back.] 

Hartmann. 
"  The  loud  Te  Deum  filled  the  sanctuary, 
And  all  that  night,  throughout  the  realm  of  France, 
With  equal  pomp,  solemnity,  and  joy — " 

Doctor   Malfatti. 
[Putting  his  hand  on  the  General's  arm.] 
Dead! 

[Silence.     The  General  closes  the  book.] 

Metternich. 
Clothe  him  in  his  Austrian  uniform. 

Curtain. 


[262] 

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